Dabbling in Heartwarming Drabbles: UsaMamo Love
by Ala Verity
Summary: Dabble your sights, and your heart, in these UsagiMamoru drabbles. Written for the 100 Themed Drabbles on Livejournal's UM: A Love Like No Other, these short stories remind us that it is the most fleeting moments that make the longest lasting memories.
1. Chocolate

I'm not actually sure _who_ or _what_ I'm writing these for. In fact, I don't _think_ I'm even writing this for the Livejournal "Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other" 100 Themed Drabbles challenge! (The link to which, by the way, for all who are interested, is --it took me ages to find on my own!) It's a fine challenge, mind you; but for now I'm taking it up on impulse, partially because I happened to come across these a couple of times and was curious, and partially because I have an incurable case of writer's block that's sending me into about four different stories at once. And for once, I just want to finish something! This is the solution. The other solution is getting floods of constructive criticism via reviews and e-mails—but since that isn't coming in the abundance I like, well…we'll see. Sit back and enjoy, hopefully—I cranked this one out in the past half-hour, which I don't normally do, so more might be coming!

Ala Verity

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100 Themed Drabbles

_1: Chocolate_

The Hug? Or the Kiss?

Hug.

Kiss.

Hug.

Kiss.

"Ooh, I don't know!" Usagi squealed to the saleswoman, her hands pressed against the glass display of chocolates in front of her. "Should I get him the giant Hug? Or the Kiss?"

"May I suggest the perfect package—the new Hugs 'n' Kisses dark chocolate deluxe?" said the woman behind the counter, holding up a large pink-foiled candy.

"Dark chocolate? Oh, that'd be perfect! Mamo-chan loves dark chocolate, and it sends the most wonderful message! Thank you!" she exclaimed, handing the woman some money and rushing out the door.

"Oh, b—"

"Keep the change!" Usagi shouted over her shoulder as she rounded the corner and out of sight.

The woman simply shook her head, murmuring to herself, "Valentine's Day does such funny things to young people…"

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The bell at the entrance to the Crown Arcade tinkled, welcoming a new arrival.

"Usagi-chan!" Motoki said cheerfully, waving at the bundled-up girl coming in.

"Oh hi, Motoki!" she breathed, taking off her scarf. "Have you seen Mamo-ch—"

"Looking for somebody?" a low voice murmured next to her ear. Usagi jumped nearly two feet into the air. The package in her arms went flying over her head…and out the still-open doors. She turned and watched in wide-eyed horror as the chocolate she had so lovingly picked soared through the air—and landed, _splat_…in the wet, muddy snow.

"Oh, no!" she cried with tear-filled eyes, looking first at the chocolate lying forlornly in the snow, then up at Mamoru, who had just come in wrapped up in a dark blue blazer. "I'm so sorry, Mamo-chan!" she whispered with a horrified look at him, biting her lip and hanging her head. "I'm sorry…"

"Usako…"

Usagi shook her head frantically. "I ruin everything!" she sobbed. "Chocolates, Valentine's Day…even th-the…the SNOW!"

"Usako." She felt a gentle pressure on her chin as Mamoru's finger lifted her face to his. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he said softly, "First off, you could never, _ever_ ruin Valentine's Day, or any day for that matter. Without you, I wouldn't _have_ a Valentine's Day to celebrate." He stroked her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. "Secondly, I don't need chocolates to be happy." He slipped a heart-shaped box of chocolates of his own and a bouquet of red roses into her hands, watching Usagi gasp in delight. "Just being with you is enough…although," he added with a quirky smile, "We could always share."

Usagi's face broke into a delighted grin, and she wiped her damp cheeks dry. However, a worried look came over her face again. "But what about your Hugs 'n' Kisses?" she asked. "What are we going to do about those?"

"Hugs and kisses, hm?" Mamoru's eyes twinkled. "Well…I think we can still manage that. Here's my hug—" He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close before leaning in so she could feel his breath, which frosted in the cold air coming in from the doorway. "And here…" he whispered with a small smile, "…is my kiss."

The chocolate lay forgotten in the snow…but it was no longer needed.

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My first drabble to you. I'm not a huge fan of them, but…gosh, that was satisfying to crank out!

Literally half an hour after she began her project and yours truly,

Ala Verity


	2. Masks

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_2. Masks_

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_"Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found_._"_ –Alexander Pope, "Essay on Criticism"

Enjoy these drabbles.

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"Hey, Tuxedo Kamen?"

"Hm?"

"I was wondering…" Sailor Moon twirled one long pigtail around her finger. "Why do you have to wear that mask?"

"This?" He touched the edge of his white mask with a fingertip. "Er, well…it keeps my identity safe, I guess. Why?"

"Hrm…well…" She dug her toe into the ground innocently and looked up at him. "I just think—well, doesn't that make kissing more difficult?"

"Ki…Kissing? How would that make k-kissing more…erm…difficult?"

"Well, I don't know, you tell me!" Sailor Moon demanded, stamping her foot impatiently. "You're the one wearing the mask all the time!"

Tuxedo Kamen stared at her, his heartbeat racing. "So does Sailor V…so why aren't you asking her?"

Sailor Moon sent him a quizzical look and responded, as if stating the obvious, "What in the world would I want to kiss Sailor Venus for?"

For that statement and the priceless look on her face, Tuxedo Kamen leaned over and kissed her.

She was wrong. It wasn't hard at all to kiss with a mask on.

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Reviews welcome! (Begged for, actually.)


	3. Hair

I'll never get through 100 if I keep up this pace…

Anyway, I couldn't decide between the two which one was worse, so—voila! Simple solution: I posted them both! Okay, so personally, I like the first one just a _tad_ better, which is why it's first. But drabbles sets were never meant to be all of them perfect. Anyway, enough dallying away! Read on!

Oh, and I forgot this the first two times around, so I'd better stick it in as a safeguard in case the disclaimer inspector comes around: Disclaimer! You know it, I know it—I don't own it. All of these drabbles are mine and I take them to bed with me at night, though. Er…in my teeming mind, of course.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_Drabble #1_

_3. Hair_ (Word Count: 652)

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"I'm cutting my hair tomorrow!" Usagi announced jubilantly, walking into the arcade.

The girls had rushed up to compliment and congratulate her on the big decision, Motoki had assured her sincerely that she would look just fine, and Mamoru…well, _he_ sat sulking in his usual seat at the counter, looking stiff as a stone.

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That night, Mamoru tossed and turned in bed. Finally, unable to fall asleep, he turned over, feeling tired and disgruntled, deciding that he'd at least try to get some reading in before heading back to bed. He turned on the bedside lamp.

_Click_. He blinked.

"Odango?" he said, feeling suddenly awake.

Usagi was standing in his bedroom. No, that wasn't right! Mamoru looked around him. It was a bustling restaurant, and _he_ was sitting at a white-clothed table.

"Here's your order, sir," she said cheerfully as she walked over, balancing a tray with precision that she didn't normally possess. "This is what you asked for, right?"

She set down a covered tray, and as she lifted the metal covering, steam rose and a wonderful aroma greeted Mamoru. Something familiar, a delicate smell that always tingled his very senses and made him wish it would never go away…

The steam began to clear.

"Your favorite, sir—spaghetti…"

Layers of pasta began to come into view…and those…those were…

"MEATBALLS!" Usagi's laughter rang through the walls, which suddenly seemed to close in on him. In dawning comprehension and horror, Mamoru looked down quickly—and felt his stomach lurch.

Sitting on the bed of pasta were two familiar, golden odangoes.

"Odango!" he cried, looking up at Usagi almost beseechingly. He gasped when her face came into the candlelight.

"Yes, Odangoes…" she chanted, towering over him. And on top of her head—two empty holes where her odangoes used to be! "My odangoes…What, don't you LIKE it this way, Mamoru? HMMM?"

"No…no! Please!"

Her eyes flashed as she loomed larger and larger over his shrinking figure. "Gooooonnne…Loooook, gonnnne…"

"NO!"

"Looook what you've doooooone—GOOOONEEEE—"

Empty circles spinning in his face…the familiar scent of her hair fading away…

"NO! ODANGOOOOOOOOOO!"

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"Are you okay, man? You look like you didn't get any sleep."

"Must be something I ate last night before I went to bed," Mamoru muttered to Motoki, sitting at the counter with his hand running nervously through his hair.

The door to the arcade opened, and Mamoru straightened up immediately. There she was, Odangoes and all. It was now or never…

He stood up very suddenly. Squaring his shoulders and making himself as tall as possible, he marched straight over to the blonde who had just entered.

"Odango!" he said loudly, coming to a halt right in front of her.

"What do you wa-ant, baka?" Usagi squealed, looking up defiantly at him. "If you're here to make fun of another poor middle-schooler again, I'm not hearing any of it!"

"Ahrm!" He cleared his throat, and repeated importantly, puffing out his chest, "Odango Atama!"

"WHAT?"

He set his jaw rigidly, fixing his eyes determinedly on a point at the top of her head. Then he said with as much bravado as he could muster, the very last thing Usagi expected to hear.

"I—That is, YOU…keep your hair the way it is and never change it!"

"I…what?"

"It'll only make it harder for me to tease you if you change it," he declared with his arms pinned stiffly against his sides, looking like a life-size nutcracker. He added with a peculiar emphasis, still talking to her head, "_Odango_." Then, not once looking at her, he walked out the open arcade doors, leaving a surprised silence in his wake.

"Er…Motoki, what was that all about?" Usagi asked as she sat down at the counter for a milkshake. She looked down at her hair. "I only cut off an inch."

Motoki simply shook his head.

"I don't really know, but that guy sure does like your hair."

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_Drabble #2_

_3. Hair_ (Word Count: 368)

"Okay, guys: the theme is hair."

"What, the drabble theme?"

"No! The game theme!" Minako replied impatiently; then, turning to Motoki, "Alright, Motoki, since you treated us all to milkshakes this lovely summer's afternoon, why don't you start? Who do you think has the best-looking hair?"

Motoki grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, everyone, but I'd have to say Usagi-chan on this one. Those Odangoes are pretty hard to beat!"

A murmur of agreement flowed through the group, and Usagi beamed at him.

Mamoru's stomach performed a weird little flop like a dying fish as he watched her smile. He wondered if he should see a doctor.

"Okay, Makoto, you're next!"

"I agree with Motoki," she said with a flirty wink at him. "Usagi-chan's got this one in the bag!" Usagi, however, heard her add in a whisper, "But damn, Motoki, you sure give her a run for her money."

"Ami?"

"Usagi."

"Rei and myself?"

"Usagi."

"Usagi."

Everyone turned to Mamoru expectantly. "Mamoru?"

He folded his arms with finality and said, "I don't see the point in answering that question. It seems like you guys have already reached a majority decision without my help."

"Yeah," Minako prodded, "But we still want to hear what you have to say!"

Mamoru looked over sulkily at Usagi, who was twisting a pigtail around her finger determinedly and looking pointedly away from him. The golden strands went round…and round…and round…

A devilish grin spread slowly across his face, and he finally spoke up. "Okay, then…" Usagi turned quickly to look at him. "I agree. I say Usagi, too."

She gaped at him, wide-eyed, and said disbelievingly, "What alien experiment did they substitute for your brains last night, baka?"

He held up a hand to silence her. "Ah-ah! Not so fast. I have a reason for absolutely _adoring_ your hair."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Incredulity mixed with anticipation sent a shiver up her spine.

Mamoru sent her an innocent smile and chirped, "Because having you look like Mickey Mouse gone bad just makes it that much easier to tease you…_Odango_!"

"YOU!"

He laughed, dancing out of reach of her outstretched hands. It felt good to tell the truth.

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Ala Verity (Please review!)


	4. Karma

If you haven't read drabbles yet, may I suggest the few that finally caused me to roll up my sleeves and say to myself (because I talk to myself in my delusion, of course) "Dagnabbit, I'm writing some drabbles!" Okay, so the sleeves are just for metaphoric purposes, and of course I can suggest some—I can write whatever I like here, except crap. Some credit-dishing, then: Alicia Blade's delightful drabbles, coupled with a few sensational ones of Counterfeiting Shakespeare, and some fresh ones from MoonPrincessMagic. Okay, that about all I have to say. Substantively speaking, anyway.

Er…I swear—I'll stop writing these annoying author's notes soon. Such short drabbles don't deserve such long AN's. I bet you the novelty will wear off by the time I get to #76, 77 at the latest, and I'll have run out of original things to say by then.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_4. Karma_ (Word Count: 582)

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Pushing open the door quietly, Serenity poked her head inside the room; then, seeing that the coast was clear, she crept inside on tiptoes, the door swinging shut silently behind her.

Moments later…

The sound of yells and mischievous giggles issuing from inside made everyone in the vicinity turn to look. Suddenly, a laughing girl burst out of the room, waving something in her hand wildly and calling over her shoulder,

"Come and get it if you want it, Endy!"

The curious onlookers leaned forward as one, scooting to the edges of their seats.

"HEY!" came a shout through the closing door. "Come back here with my pants, Sere!"

Fifty pairs of eyes immediately honed in on the black objects in Serenity's hands. They were, indeed, their prince's pants.

"Not my fault you can't even keep track of your pants when you're changing!" she taunted gleefully.

That was true. Fifty heads bobbed up and down in unanimous agreement.

Serenity smiled with satisfaction to herself. She could practically hear the wheels in her fiancé's notoriously intelligent brain cranking, searching for a way out of this. Evidently, for once, no solution came to him, because the next second his voice drifted clear through the closed door again,

"Come on, this isn't funny!"

Fifty heads shook back and forth. Negative, this was _very_ funny.

She spun the trousers nonchalantly around her finger, looking up at the ceiling innocently. Then she cooed, "Ohhh, Endy!"

"_What?_"

"You'd better come out while you have the chance, _dear_, before people start arriving!"

There was a rustling from inside, then the sound of a door slamming. Pounding footsteps could be heard, followed by a loud voice,

"Mark my words, Sere, if I don't get you now, karma—"

The door swung open, and fifty pairs of eyes swiveled in unison on the emerging figure.

"—will definitely get…you…"

The shirt in his hand fluttered to the ground.

"Oh. God."

Endymion looked up. He was standing in front of the entire royal court, clad only in black boxers.

A single titter could be heard from the crowd.

ZOOM! He sped back into the bathroom faster than a cheetah on wheels.

"Oops," Serenity giggled, picking up his dropped shirt and fingering it with a grin. "Guess what I meant to say was, 'People have started arriving.'"

She turned and winked at the assembled audience. Fifty pairs of eyes winked back at her.

Ahhh. Their royal, pantless monarch. Praise be with him!

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One millennium and 124 milkshakes from the Crown Arcade later…

"Shhhh!"

"I can't believe you spilled milkshake on his pants just to get him in there!"

"And _I_ can't believe you guys dared me to do this!" Usagi whispered. The gaggle of girls surrounding her hushed her furiously with a chorus of, "Just go!"'s, coupled with Minako's trademark embarrassing remark,

"YEAH, GO GET YOUR HAND ON HIS PANTS, USAGI-CHAN!"

BLUSH.

"Okay, okay!" Usagi cringed, fanning the red out of her face. After a moment, she took a determined breath, pushed open the door, and marched in.

The door swung shut after her, the word "MEN" swinging to a stop in front of the girls. They immediately pressed their ears against the door, listening intently, then…

"YARGH!" Followed by manic laughter and the patter of running footsteps.

The same satisfied smile spread across all four girls' faces as they exchanged silent high-fives. And inside, they could still hear the echoing threats reverberating off the tiled bathroom walls,

"ODANGO, IF I DON'T GET YOU NOW, KARMA WILL!!!"

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Feeeed the review-eating machiiiine!

It's emaciated, and that's unhealthy. :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Cheers! Ala Verity


	5. Short Skirt

Indecision strikes yet again! That explains why there's two drabbles…

You _could_ think of it as one continuing drabble set at two different times, if you wanted.

Anyway, I like the second, but my _brother_ (boys will do anything to contradict you, go figure) prefers the first. My putting the first one first isn't a sign of concession. On the contrary, it's for consistency's sake, since I got used to it in this order during the uh, two days I acquainted myself with it. But cast your informal, doesn't-really-matter-but-it's-fun-to-know-anyway vote!

Disclaimer: Yes, there is the impending danger of flame-breathing dragons walking into your room with destructive intentions if you vote for #1. :)

Oh, and there won't be updates for the rest of the week, mostly! I'll get back to your nice comments and messages ASAP, though.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_5. Short Skirt_ (Word Count: 281)

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_Drabble #1_ (That you're not going to vote for…right? Boo-hoo!)

"Whoever made these damn skirts either had a serious mental problem…or was a man!" Sailor Moon screamed across the battlefield, loud enough for half of the slumbering city to hear.

"I say!" Sailor Jupiter conceded, whacking at her own fuku to put out the fire that had caught on it. "It's not fireproof—"

"—which is to say that it's not Mars-proof—"

"Hey!"

"You can't run in them properly—" Sailor Venus piped up.

"And they're mathematically constructed in such a way as to hinder any activity that would be beneficial to carrying out the duties of Senshi!" Mercury added helpfully.

"Hear, hear!" Sailor Moon concurred enthusiastically, jumping out of the way of a lethal-looking vine. "And, to top it all off—"

"Sailor Moon, watch out!"

"They're so—"

A burst of green energy shot straight for her open, unprotected back.

"So damn—"

"SAILOR MOON!"

"SHORT!" she shouted, just as the engulfing beam was just about to collide with her. "AGH!"

Everybody shielded their eyes.

"Huh?"

Sailor Moon looked up, then down under her. She was in the arms of Tuxedo Kamen, and they were soaring together over the sleeping city of Tokyo. "Tuxedo Kamen…" she whispered.

"You know," he said softly, setting her down lightly as they made touchdown on the other side of the park, "I, for one, don't think that skirt looks half bad on you." He flashed her a quirky grin and leapt up effortlessly onto the nearest rooftop, leaving Sailor Moon, her face burning a bright pink, to watch his shadowy figure disappear into the engulfing darkness of the night.

And suddenly, Sailor Moon didn't quite mind the short skirts so much anymore.

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_Drabble #2_ (Yay! Rah-rah for #2!)

Word Count: 537

"Geez, Usagi."

"What, er…"

"That is to say, why—um…"

"Wow girl, why is your skirt so SHORT?"

"Brilliantly put, Minako-chan," Usagi muttered resentfully, trying to tug at her skirt without attracting the others' attention. It didn't work.

"Yeah…damn girl, why _is_ it so short?" Makoto asked with a raised eyebrow, eyeing her friend's skirt that seemed in danger of riding up her—

"My mom put it through the dryer!" Usagi wailed with long-perfected theatrics. "I forgot to tell her not to—and then it came out looking like…like this!" She pointed at the skirt hopelessly. "Ohh, why did all my other uniforms have to be in the wash…!"

"Trying to put the sprinkler-system industry out of business again, Odango?" quipped a voice from behind her. She whipped around to see Mamoru leaning against their booth, wearing a smirk on his face.

"Why you—"

"Whoa, Odango," he said, casting a less-than-discreet glance down at her skirt, which she pulled at fruitlessly. "What happened, tried on some of Barbie's outfits and got stuck or something?"

"Mamoru, you jerk—"

"Hey, hey," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "I'm not saying anything, okay? Although," he let out a low, appreciative whistle as she stood up swiftly to confront him, "If that's what you've been hiding all this time, I'd say it's not half bad…not bad at all for someone whose diet consists solely of cupcakes and milkshakes…!"

Her free hand whapped him across the head. "YOU—!"

"Wow, Odango—" he laughed with unrepentant cheer as she hit him ineffectually on the arm, "you get pretty—" He stopped mid-sentence to look around the arcade. The _silent_ arcade.

"Get pretty, uh…"

Everybody was staring at them.

"Pretty sexy when…you're angry in a short skirt…" he finished, looking up at her with a grin, conscious of the fact that all eyes were on them.

"WHAT?!" Usagi screeched, raining hits on his shoulder with her fists. But Mamoru hardly noticed. Because he suddenly realized that no, all eyes weren't on them…

All eyes were on HER. Her in a very. Short. Skirt.

"Odango," he said suddenly, his voice commanding as he grabbed her firmly by the wrist and pulled her towards the door. "Come on, Odango, we're leaving."

"L-Leaving?!" she sputtered at him. "What do you mean, _leaving_—?"

"Put this on," he said, taking off his jacket and starting to tie it around her waist. She squealed when his arms wrapped around her, and she yelled furiously, "Chiba Mamoru, I demand to know—AGH!"

Usagi screamed as he scooped her up in his arms. Then, careful not to let her legs flail, er, too much…he simply walked out the door with her. A surprised silence followed in their wake.

"Erm…" Makoto said hesitantly when Usagi's shouts and Mamoru's calm responses finally faded away. "Guys, what was _that_ all about?"

"You don't think he's…jealous, do you?" Minako commented.

They all stirred their milkshakes thoughtfully, then said all at once, "Nahh."

That left Motoki, who was leaning out the doorway looking wistfully after them, to whistle and say, "Da-ang, that skirt was short." Then he punched the air jubilantly and exclaimed with good cheer, "Finally! Way to get him, Usagi-chan!"

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Actually, you guessed it—I don't really care which one you prefer, or don't, or if you don't prefer any at all. It doesn't matter. Ha! That sounds harsh. I mean, it's only a…::sob:: blow to my pride! Number one's not horrible, anyway.

Don't think that puts you out of danger from fire-breathing dragons, though! I am still completely willing and able to set those on all who pass by and do not review or e-mail!

(…I think this is where I should put the don't-sue-me-I'm-just-a-poor-online-writer disclaimer, disclosing the fact that I do not, in fact, own any dragons. And to avoid charges of conspiracy, I wouldn't want to sic' them on anyone even I had them.)


	6. Blue Eyes

Hurrah! No author's note!

Oops. Never mind. Moving on…

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_6. Blue Eyes_ (Word Count: 443)

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If you ever saw any of my friends in real life, chances are you would go straight into cardiac arrest. No qualms to be had about it.

You would also agree with me that our animator is a complete and total nutcase.

Legs up to our necks, hair the length of football fields, and actions defying the laws of gravity aside…have you seen our _eyes_? I mean, sure, they take up half of our faces, and yeah, in the real world we'd look like aliens with creepy bugger eyes about to eat YOUR eyes out. But forget that. I'm talking about their color.

Let me put it this way: What would YOU do if you saw a black cat walking by on the street—a black cat with humongous _red eyes_ staring back at you?

I tell you what you'd do. You'd lock that thing up as fast as you could in the animal control center and lash it down to a euthanizing table.

Not that I'm saying my Luna has rabies. I've become perfectly accustomed to the sight of her red eyes. But that might just be a personal, I-also-have-eyes-the-size-of-dinner-plates thing of me to say.

That being said, all of you who fawn over the un-proportionality of our gorgeous bodies and faces are no better. I mean, crazy cats come and go like the wind. But really, how much of an improvement is it to see a black-haired beauty, for instance, walking around the city with the biggest purple eyes you've ever seen?

I'm talking about Rei, and I can tell you for a fact that she doesn't own a single pair of contacts.

Same goes for Makoto, whose eyes are the deepest shade of forest green you've never seen. I don't think it's even a classified eye color. No wonder she scares people so much.

I won't get into Ami's case. She may have unspectacular eyes, whatever that means, but really—natural blue hair? If that's not verging on genetic disaster, I don't know what is.

And then there's Minako, whose eye color changes more frequently than Barbie at a freak fashion show. Yellow one moment, a funky shade of magenta-pink the next. She says it's a survival technique. _I_ think she might be part-chameleon. Enough said, I think.

That's why I always say that Mamo-chan and I are perfect for each other.

We're the only _regular_ Japanese people with _normal blue eyes_ in this madhouse.

Although, I'm still at a loss as to explain how we ended up with a crimson-eyed daughter. I _have_ been wondering what Mamoru's been doing with my cat lately…

Ha! Ju-ust kidding, guys. Just kidding.


	7. Things Left Unsaid

Yes, I've been hounding Naoko Takeuchi for ages and offered her ownership of all my writings in exchange for possession of Sailor Moon—but will she take the deal? No! Why? Er…yeahh, we won't get into why she won't trade a million-dollar work for an amateur writer's can-hardly-even-attract-a-steady-readership stories.

Anyway, I've included a second drabble here for your perusing pleasure—or displeasure, whichever way you'll have it—but it's not a "Drabble #2" like in some of the previous chapters, per se. I spent a good deal of time on it, and don't mind putting it up; would think it a waste not to, actually. But…! I guess you could say (and rightly so!) that the addition is purely for entertainment purposes. Er, actually, I don't know any fanfics that aren't but…ah, there you go! It's there, and you can read it if you like. Over and out::Runs away cringing::

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_7. Things Left Unsaid_ (Word Count: 365)

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It had been another long day, filled with pointless quarrels and uselessly raging hormones. Dumping his book bag heavily by the dresser as he entered the apartment, Mamoru pulled pen and paper out of a drawer, sat down wearily at his desk, and began to write.

_Things That Should Never Be Said (Or—Some Things That Are Better Left Unsaid)_

_Caution: Negative consequences of using any of the following statements could result in violent responses, verbal assaults, or any number of other unwanted repercussions._

10. "Don't worry, sir, you can take my word for it that by the end of the night I'll have your daughter safe in bed—I mean, at home!

9. "Did a rabbit scratch your face out when you were little and spit out the pieces, or do you just look like that?"

8. "This is gay! So am I."

7. "Last night was amazing…Oh, sorry, honey, can you hang on a second? I'm on the phone with your secretary."

6. "I love you to tits—I MEAN, BITS! To bits!

5. "I'm glad we both decided to get everything out in the open in this relationship—because I sure as hell was lying through my teeth when I said that dress didn't make you look fat."

4. "So when's your baby due? …Oh, you're not pregnant?"

3. "_Damn_, your wife's hot."

2. "_Damn_, your _mom's_ hot!"

His pen paused, however, and hovered over the page for a moment before it slowly formed the last forbidden words—the ones that, above all, must never be spoken by himself.

1. "Usako, I love you."

His eyes scanning the page listlessly again, Mamoru moved his pen back to the top of the page and scribbled at the end of the caution heading the word "heartbreak." Then, folding up the sheet carefully, he put the pen back in place, slipped the paper gently onto the bedside table, and laid down on his bed with a sigh. As he folded his arms behind his head and stared at the dark ceiling, the final written words echoed in his head, and he had the strangest feeling that he was not going to get much sleep tonight, either.

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_The "Bonus" Drabble_ (Word Count: 649)

Rating for language! Beware, sensitive eyes and ears!

Although, if you don't already know what any of these mean…:) you can just delude yourself into thinking that they really _are_ just animals, okay? I free myself from all blame of vocabulary misusage and any ensuing violence, though! Please, don't take this too seriously. And no, I don't think Usagi's _stupid_…per se…she's just not exactly a lexicologist, to put it nicely. And no, this isn't a vendetta against blondes.

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"Bi-itch."

"That's right, Usagi-chan! Now what does it mean?"

Usagi furrowed her brow, trying to think. Then she snapped her fingers in realization and asked, "A female dog?"

"Very good!" Minako chirped with a smile. "Try the next one!"

This was the interesting exchange that saluted Mamoru's ears when he walked into the arcade one fateful Tuesday afternoon.

"Okay, so this one's—erm…suh-looot…!"

Mamoru's ears perked up in time to hear Minako's less-than-delicate response, "No, no, it's _slut_, Usagi-chan. Slut."

"Ohhhh. Sl-uttt! Gotcha."

"So tell me, what does 'slut' mean, Usagi-chan?"

Mamoru raised his eyebrows, his interest suddenly piqued. Sauntering over with an amused look, he drawled, looking over Usagi's shoulder, "What, exactly, is going on over _here_ in this dark little corner where dirty ideas brew?"

The two blondes looked up at the sound of his voice, but it was Usagi who spoke up first. "We're having vocabulary lessons!" she piped cheerfully, holding up flashcards for him to see.

Mamoru choked on unspent laughter. Pounding his chest forcefully, he stared incredulously from one to the other and said, "Excu-use me?"

"Oh, come on, Mamoru-baka!" Usagi retorted, misinterpreting his reaction and frowning. "Just because you think I'm dimmer than a…a glowstick, doesn't mean I can't brush up on my vocabulary from time to time!"

Mamoru didn't quite trust himself to speak.

"Okay, look," Usagi finally said in what he recognized as exasperated matter-of-factness. "Minako-chan, what was that last word again?"

"Slut!"

"Slut—" Usagi recited dutifully. "A terrestrial pulmonate gastropod related to the snail but most commonly found without a shell, with a long body that usually excretes oozing fluids to promote and catalyze traveling."

Mamoru couldn't decide whether to gape at the sudden expansion of her vocabulary or laugh at its apparent shortcomings. He ended up doing both. "Nice, er, _vocabulary_ you've got there, Odango!" he coughed out, while Minako cheered in the background, "Score!"

"No, look, we've been going over animals, so I know these!" Usagi flipped through a few pages of (Mamoru noted incredulously) handwritten notes. "A huhhh-ore. One of several types of pigs or hogs."

Oh dear. Was she trying to say "boar?"

He tried hard not to smile.

"Ahrm. Well," he said, rubbing the back of his head self-consciously. She could be as cute and innocent as she wanted, but that didn't help deny the fact that she was shouting colorful words at the top of her lungs for the whole arcade to hear. "It's been fun, Odango," he said with an attempt at sincerity, trying to look impressed—Usagi beamed at him. "But—ah, well, I've got to go, er…order myself a coffee. Or something," he added in a mutter, hurrying away to the counter.

Some things, he decided, are just better left unsaid. This was one of them—along with "Why yes, honey, that dress _does_ make you look fat" and the tried-and-true, "_Damn_, your mom's hot!" (AN: Yes—taken from his very own list!)

No sooner had he arrived at the sanctified counter, however, than a shout stopped him straight in his tracks.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Look, Minako-chan, it's a…a FAGGOT!" Usagi screamed, pointing vigorously at something and jumping up and down excitedly. Mamoru turned around to see an overturned trash bag in the arcade entrance, out of which had rolled a moldy apple. And on top of it were a bunch of—

Motoki stared at Usagi with wide eyes and his jaw dropped.

—_maggots_.

Mamoru burst into laughter. In the background, he could hear Usagi and Minako's delighted squeals of, "Oooh, faggots! Faggots!"

"Er, don't ask and you won't get hurt," Mamoru suggested helpfully to his still-gaping friend when he had recovered somewhat, looking over and grinning ruefully. He just hoped she'd never have an excuse to come over to his place; if Usagi ever caught sight of his landlord's female dog, he would never hear the end of it.

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I hope you liked it! Bite, smite, and give respite! Or read a few and then review. Don't bail and e-mail! Hope you enjoyed! I'll try to get a few more out before busy-times come kicking in again.


	8. Kiss

Holiday cheer doesn't only come once a year…But it sure as heck comes in more copious amounts during Christmastime!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_8. Kiss_ (Word Count: 898—Whew, I know, that's a long drabble!)

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"No. Way."

"Nuh-uh. Not doing it! NO."

They were both looking up with craned necks at the gnarly little green bush hanging above their heads.

Then, at the same time and pointing their fingers defiantly at each other, "I'm NOT doing it—"

"With HIM!"

"With HER."

"I hate Christmas," Mamoru said loudly. "I hate holiday traditions. The holidays can go screw—"

"And there's no way I'M kissing Scrooge over there!" Usagi yelled over her shoulder.

Motoki, who had witnessed the scene, merely winked at the innocent-looking mistletoe with a twinkle in his eye. Then, ushering a group of protesting girls out of the arcade, he said with the slightest trace of irony, "We'll just call it a rain-check, then, shall we?"

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"Ahem."

Usagi looked pointedly out the window, careful to keep her eyes fixed on that very interesting-looking…er, stroller across the street.

"_Ahem_. Hem."

Unable to keep to herself any longer, she finally whirled on the source of disturbance and demanded adamantly, "What, do you need a cough drop or something?"

Mamoru scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. "Uhh, actually…no. I needed to…see you for a second?"

He looked so timid Usagi's eyes actually softened.

"Yeah, sure—okay. But only in spirit of the holiday season!" she added warningly, standing up to follow him into the back room. When the door had swung shut behind them, she looked around the dim room, trying to will her eyes into adjusting to the unadulterated darkness. When they finally focused, however, she found nothing more than an ordinary broom closet, complete with shelves, storage boxes, a dying lightbulb…and a pair of hands stuck palm-up in front of her nose.

"AGH!"

And on top…a single piece of candy.

"Wh-what is it?" Usagi stammered, her hand clamped over her pounding heart. Then, looking up at Mamoru accusingly, "Okay, jig's up, mister. What kind of joke are you playing at?"

"Joke?" He looked at the piece of candy, then up at Usagi to see if _she_ was joking. Her eyebrows were raised, as if she were starting to doubt his sanity. "It—of course it's not a joke, Odango Atama. It's—it's a Kiss, see?"

"Huh?" She looked back at the foiled candy with a little piece of paper sticking out the top. Squinting, she could just make out the manufactured print, which read "Hershey's KISS," and in smaller, handwritten letters were the words, "For Odango." Usagi felt a smile creep up across her face.

"A Kiss, huh?" She reached out and took the candy from his hand; and when Mamoru detected that she wasn't about to hit him, he smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, I thought—well, I didn't want to be the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, so…well, there you go," he shrugged, indicating the Kiss sitting in the palm of her hand.

"I love it," she said, grinning. Mamoru watched as she unwrapped the chocolate carefully and popped it into her mouth. No sooner was it in, however, she gasped.

Mamoru lunged forward, thinking she had choked and steeling himself for a painful, rib-cracking bout of Heimlich Maneuver—but then she clapped a hand over her mouth and exclaimed in astonishment the very last thing he expected to hear.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot to share some with you!"

Mamoru immediately threw his hands (which had been dangerously close to wrapping around her torso) back down flat against his sides and said quickly, "Er—yeah, but that's okay—"

"No, it's not fair that you gave me one and I don't have anything to give back! …Let me think about this." Her brow furrowed in concentration and she bit her lip thoughtfully. Finally, however, her eyes widened in some revelation and she moved in closer, her face positively glowing.

"I've got it!" She turned her face up towards his, and his heartbeat suddenly sped up… "I have your Kiss in my mouth, right?"

Mamoru turned slightly pink. "I can't ignore how wrong that sounds but yes, that's the general idea…"

She waved his remark airily aside, continuing, "That means all I have to do is return some of it to you!" Her look was undeniably jubilant. Mamoru, however, eyed her warily, half fearful that she was going to spit the chocolate out on his shirt or something. He started cautiously, "And how do you propose—"

But she didn't wait for him to finish his question. In an instant, she stood up on tiptoes and gave him a light peck on the check, leaving just the smallest smudge of chocolate there. The spot tingled deliciously, and Mamoru had a sudden, irresistible craving for chocolate.

"There!" Usagi cried triumphantly, standing back to admire her results. "Now I've given you my chocolate Kiss, too!"

"What? Oh, yeah…" Mamoru murmured dazedly, his hand running lightly over the spot. "Thanks for the…the er, chocolate back," he said, looking at Usagi, who was smiling happily. He wouldn't tell her…not today, at least. He wouldn't let her know just yet that she had given him much more than just a simple bit of chocolate.

"Merry Christmas, Odango."

She flashed him a winning smile as she turned and walked out the door. "I guess even a grumpy old Scrooge can change for the sake of the holiday spirit, huh?"

'No,' Mamoru thought wistfully as he watched her leave. 'For the sake of a Christmas angel.'

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I can't seem to keep my holidays straight. ::shrugs:: It's kind of close to Christmastime, right? I mean, Christmas is always right around the corner! This can be a late Christmas gift, and "Chocolate" can be a Valentine's one.

And I know, I know, I exploited the same twist twice, sort of (same as "Chocolate!"—how ironic that they're both holiday-disoriented). But I don't like taking the themes too literally, and sometimes have to find my way around them a bit. It's differently cut, anyway. ;) But don't worry—that kiss (oops, I almost wrote "kill!" Most definitely not a kill) will be coming up soon…just wait for it! Ironic I can't even get a real one out when the theme's staring me straight in the face, though!

Drop me a note and tell me if you liked it!

Ala Verity


	9. Button

I came up with this one, like many of my other ones (you should be able to pick them out from the others without too much problem), at the ungodly hour of 3 or 4 a.m., when my brain suddenly decides to rebel into overdrive and send me literally flying over to the desk by my bed, scribbling away notes like a madwoman. So that would explain my, erm, _different_ take on this theme (or at least, I'd like to think it's different—I guess I might not be as original as I thought, though). I've been worried, especially since I had a lot of trouble with "Kiss."

Thanks again to everyone who's been reviewing. I can't tell you how encouraging your support is! I hope you enjoy this one as well!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_9. Button_ (Word Count: 689)

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"Push the button."

"No."

A moment of silence. Then…

"Just push the gosh-darn button, Mamoru."

"No thanks, I don't think I will," came the nonchalant male reply, followed by the sound of Usagi's feet tapping impatiently on the floor.

"If you haven't noticed, we've been standing in this elevator for nearly four minutes now."

"I didn't know you could read a watch, Odango. But I'll survive."

"_I_ won't!" Usagi huffed, turning narrowed eyes on her companion. "So will you just push it already?!"

"No-ope."

"Alright, that's it," Usagi warned, rolling up her sleeves. "You asked for it, bub."

"Actually," he pointed out smartly, "my name's Mamor—ACK!"

Poor "Mamorack" barely saw what hit him next.

WHAM. 115 pounds of angry junior-high school girl collided into him with the force of a bullet train.

'Whoever said being swept off your feet was a metaphor for love,' Mamoru thought grimly as a pair of odangoes slammed into his chest and lifted him clean off the ground, 'has clearly never been attacked by a humanoid rabbit before. OUCH, that one's going to leave a bruise.'

And they both went tumbling to the floor, where a frenzied struggle ensued over the fateful elevator button.

"Argh—geroff, Odango!" Strange. He could see his heels soaring straight over his head, but he wasn't feeling the lovin' just yet.

"YOU JERK—! I'm going to KILL you!" Neither, apparently, was she.

"Ahhh!" Definitely not a moan of ecstasy, that was for sure.

"Eeps! My hair, you creep!"

"OW! That's my hand, you little brat!"

'Head over heels?' Mamoru thought bleakly to himself as Usagi's claws sent his shirt buttons flying everywhere. 'More like head, over heels, over limbs, over hands, over face, over flying hair, over lips—'

Urk! …_L__i__ps_?

Breathing heavily, Mamoru realized too late that in all the brawling and biting, his face had somehow ended up mere centimeters from her own. His wide eyes strayed of their own volition to her pink, soft lips. Neither of them moved. And it was in that blissful silence that it finally hit him.

God, she was beautiful.

With a sudden surge of determination he had never dreamed of possessing, he reached a hand behind her head and pulled her in close, his eyes closing fast, the distance between them closing even faster, all breathing virtually forgotten as their steamy kiss—

As their steamy, just-about-to-happen kiss was interrupted by a soft _click_.

Followed by a…

_Thump_! That was the sound the cane made when it fell, unheeded, to the floor.

The old man standing in the doorway stood, staring agape at the two lovers lying interlocked on the elevator floor, legs tangled, her hand lovingly mid-caress on his face, his own wound up tightly in her golden locks, her hair spread just about everywhere. And to top it all off with a cherry, the young man's now-buttonless shirt had already come halfway undone.

None of them so much as blinked. After what seemed an eternity, the doors began to close again in aching slowness, until they finally shut with a resounding _clunk_.

They both stared, dumbfounded, at the iron doors. Then reality hit. And so did Usagi.

BAM!

"Stupid!" Usagi yelled, smashing the heel of her hand against his jaw where it had been groping—er, stroking just a moment earlier. "You just made me look like a total skank!"

"And _you_ just made me look like the most idiotic man on Earth," Mamoru conceded, pulling at her hair, "because only the world's biggest fool would fall for you!"

She kicked up from under him, and he howled with pain. "Ew! You're not—_falling_ for anyone! EW! Not not NOT!"

And for what seemed like ages, they continued to fight, bite, and scratch inside the elevator, shut off from the rest of the world, over the long-forgotten button.

Outside, the old man shook his head and smiled benignly as he listened to the grunts, groans, and even the occasional moan coming from the elevator. And he thought wistfully to himself as he moved to take the stairs, 'Ahh, how good it must feel to be young again!'

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I just do the darndest things, don't I? Eight chapters and they're still kissing-virgins. Jeesh! It'll happen soon, I promise! So don't kill me if they're not together yet, because then you won't have any drabbles to read and they'll never get together that way…! Please?

Just drop me a note, okay? I hope you liked it! Did you like the double-use of the button theme?! Yeeheeheehee!

Er, and just to put things into perspective, _I_ don't know why Mamoru wouldn't push the button, either. Probably just to irk Usagi. Eh! Men.

Cheers! Ala Verity


	10. Sweet Sixteen

::Cringes:: Romances are as fluffy as fat bunnies, and just as hard to write (on)! See? My analogies are screwing themselves over already, it's that bad. Ala Verity doesn't like this one as much as she should before posting. :( My confidence has waned now that I don't have anyone to "approve" it beforehand. Anyway, forge on bravely…and don't be too harsh? Pretty please? …Fine, fine! Just don't torch me with your flames, I guess. I'm not a witch, you know, just a writer.

Recommended Drabbles of the however-long-before-I-decide-to-post: Kerochan no Miko's "100 Moonlit Nights!"

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_10. Sweet Sixteen_ (Word Count: 839)

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_I wish he would kiss me, just this once, and I wouldn't wake up. I wish it were _real

"Hey, Mamoru," Usagi said, sliding into the stool next to him on a sunny June afternoon, "You were sixteen once, weren't you?"

Random, seemingly pointless questions were a daily occurrence if you knew Tsukino Usagi. Sighing, Mamoru turned to face her and replied in perfect seriousness, "Yeah, you know, Odango…that's what usually happens when you reach the ripe old age of eighteen—you pass by all the years before it, too." He leaned back and smirked.

"Oh." Instead of puffing up indignantly and wailing like he expected, Usagi seemed, if anything, to shrink under his gaze. "I suppose you were, huh…"

She looked wistfully out the window at the beautiful summer's day outside.

"Okay, what's wrong, Odango?" Mamoru practically demanded, feeling a bit more than unnerved at her distracted behavior. "What's your business asking questions that you, _miraculously_, already know the answers to?"

Usagi jerked her head up to face him, clearly startled. "I—Sorry, what? Oh! Um…"

"Honestly!" Mamoru's hand hit the counter, a nagging voice in his head reminding him that he was getting more worked up than circumstances actually warranted. He shoved it roughly aside. "What is _with_ you today, Odango?"

Dammit, when it was Usagi time between the hours of 3 and 4:30 p.m. on schooldays (and weekends, if he was lucky), her attention was his and his alone. None of this wish-washy staring-out-the-window business!

She looked for a second like she was about to reconsider, before blurting out with a slight return of her old fire, "It must have been a pretty bitter sixteen, then!"

Mamoru stared at her for a moment…then burst into laughter. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" she insisted adamantly, frowning. "Bitter, just like that coffee you're always drinking!"

Mamoru looked down speculatively at his cup, before answering smoothly, "And yours, Odango, will be the sourest sixteen in all of Tokyo. Whenever you get there, anyway," he added slyly, grinning. "Still got at least another two years to go before you have to start explaining to the world why you can't act like a mature woman of sixteen, isn't that right?"

"Hey, Usagi-chan!"

Usagi turned to face the well-timed intruder, but not before Mamoru caught sight of the horrified look still smeared across her face from his remark.

"M-Motoki! Hi!"

The young arcade manager strode over, bright smile and all, and pulled Usagi into a cheerful hug so that her eyes peered just barely, miserably, accusingly, over his shoulder at Mamoru.

"Happy birthday, Usagi-chan!"

A sudden, jolting sensation shook Mamoru to the core. He froze, unable to tear his eyes away from the glum blue ones before him.

"You're a big girl now—fifteen already, isn't that right?" Motoki pulled away with a grin, and Mamoru saw Usagi's face change instantly. "We'll celebrate as soon as this place closes, okay? Milkshake's on me today, and sundaes all around!"

Usagi nodded, a smile on her face to match Motoki's, but the image of her sullen blue eyes still burned vividly in Mamoru's mind. Calling over his shoulder "Take good care of her until then, Mamoru!" Motoki left the two sitting in a fitful silence at the counter.

The seconds passed by painstakingly slowly, as if someone had run Time through a freezer. Finally, Mamoru cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Er, Odang—I mean, Usagi…"

Silence. Usagi kept her eyes on her complimentary birthday milkshake, but it looked more like a soured poison than a sweet treat to her now.

"Usagi," he tried again, softly this time. "What I meant was…I—I like you just the way you are."

She looked up, surprised more by his tone than his words.

Mamoru ran a hand nervously through his hair before continuing, "I only said that cra—I mean, that stuff because I don't want to see you change. That's the truth of it, honest." He looked up at her, his gaze both imploring and admiring at once. "But I know, you're living _proof_ that change can be for the better, because the only thing that's ever the same about you is that you never, never fail to amaze me in so many new ways." He smiled almost apologetically. "So I guess what I'm trying to say is…happy birthday, Usagi."

And although he couldn't possibly have known what she had wished for when she blew out the candle earlier that day, Mamoru found that he didn't need to—he simply leaned over and kissed her.

And that was when she knew. _This_ was real. No dream could feel this right. Who said wishes never came true?

"And you know, Usagi-chan…" he added in a whisper when he had pulled away, a smile playing across his lips, "it doesn't have to be sixteen to be sweet."

He was right. Looking into his bright blue eyes with a soft smile of her own, Usagi knew that it had to be the sweetest fifteen she had ever tasted.

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Remember, witch, not writer! I mean, writer, not witch! GAH! That's not evidence and you can't use that against me—McCarthy's dead! (I think.) Oh, wait, that was the Red Scare witch hunt, not the medieval one. Okay, I'm not a character from Arthur Miller's plays and I've never levitated bodies! _Levicorpus!_ ::Runs away::

(Now who actually got all of those inane references?)

Write to meeee!


	11. Past

Before anyone kills me on charges of being a bad speller, I'll have you know that the word in the second sentence is intentionally misspelled. Oh, and my last chapter was missing a period at the end of the second sentence, too, but that wasn't my fault because it was in my saved draft. (What a prick, you say I am? Why, thank you!) Now reed on! 8) (And yes, I actually thought that was funny.)

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_11. Past_ (Word Count: 768)

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Mamoru's eyes skimmed over the top line of the page.

_I__ past by the corner store __by the arcade __today __and saw a jacket I liked_

Mamoru automatically reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a pen. The writing utensil honed in immediately on the offending word—"past"—and crossed it out neatly. Then, he scribbled above the line a single, corrected word: "passed."

"Mamoru-baka, what ARE you doing?"

Jamming the pen hastily back into his pocket, he turned around to see a steamed-looking Usagi standing, hands on her hips, in front of him.

"Nothing!" he replied quickly in a voice that fooled nobody. And Usagi, evidently, was not Nobody.

"Let me see that!" She snatched the paper out of his hands and, recognizing the handwriting as her own, began to flush. "Wh-where did you get this? You thief!"

"Hey," he said defensively, holding up his hands, "You dropped it when you left for the bathroom, okay? I only caught a glimpse of the first sentence!"

Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at the paper, as if to check for proof of his truthfulness; not, Mamoru thought, that she was actually expecting any. The look on her face, therefore, when she caught sight of the tiny correction at the top of the page was priceless.

"Y-you—you corrected my _work_?!" she sputtered, looking from the now-confirmed Grammar Guru-Freak of the Century to the sheet in her hands. "You're psycho, insane! Stop reading my stuff!" And crushing the paper into a bookbag pocket, her face pink with a mixture of amazement and anger, she stormed without another word to the double-doored entrance of the arcade and out into the breezy autumn afternoon.

Of course, it was just windy enough to cause a certain crumpled sheet of paper to fly, unnoticed, out of a certain pigtailed girl's backpack.

"Oy, plot twist," Mamoru murmured to himself with an ironic grin as he got up to retrieve the paper. Smoothing it out before him, this time he read the entire original message.

_I past by the c__orner store __by the arcade __today __and saw a jacket I liked. __It would have looked good on Mamoru, actually, __and I would've__ bought it for him, __only he's too big of a jerk to appreciate something like that.__ Too bad—t__he bright blue would've brought out his eyes._

Mamoru stared for a very long time at the note, reading and re-reading the sentences written in untidy scrawl across the page. Suddenly, after a twelfth scan through, he jumped up and, checking his watch hastily, shouted to Motoki, "Hey, what time do the stores on this block close?"

"Generally? Around five, why—?" His friend turned around, but Mamoru was already bolting out the door, folding a piece of paper and sliding it into his shirt pocket for safekeeping.

Motoki shook his head at the napkin dispenser he was refilling, confiding in it sadly, "I'll never get what goes on in that crazy head of his…"

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The next day, Usagi was sitting at the counter when somebody slid into the seat next to hers. Thinking it one of the girls, she faced the newcomer and said,

"Oh, hello-ohhh—" She caught sight of Mamoru. "Oh, just hell then, it's you." She promptly turned around again.

However, she suddenly stopped mid-turn, her eyes wide as if she had just seen a lion tap-dancing in a tutu. Turning her head slowly around to face Mamoru again, she gaped in evident surprise and practically had to spit out, "When did you get that jacket?"

"Yesterday," Mamoru replied smoothly, pretending not to notice her astonishment.

She cleared her throat. "I see you've finally, ah, ditched your old one, then."

"Yup."

She glanced at him—and his new, _blue_ jacket—one more time, then blurted, as if she could not resist, "So who do you like enough to actually trash your beloved jacket for? You never change for anyone!" She turned away quickly, but Mamoru detected a slight blush—and was that…a little jealousy?—in her face. He hid a smile.

"Just a friend of mine. She thought it'd look good on me." Usagi looked up at him, startled, and Mamoru flashed her a quirky grin. "Says it brings out the color of my eyes."

A look of dawning comprehension slowly spread across her features, just as Mamoru added with a twinkle in his eye,

"So…what do _you_ think, Odango? Is it a keeper, or what?"

It might have started with the past, he thought to himself, but it was time to move on to the present.

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That just means he's finally willing to move past the purely argumentative stage with Usagi, that's all. But ah, what a transition! As you might have guessed, the next drabble theme is "present"—ahhh, the wonders of double-meanings. Consider this the first in a set of three—"past," "present," and "future!"

Hope you enjoyed! Write and review! Ala Verity


	12. Present

Thanks again for all of your support! I can't believe it's hasn't even been two weeks since I started my first drabble, and you guys are great! Thanks especially to the readers who frequent my page—you make my day! Anyway, I actually almost like this one, so I hope you do, too!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_12. Present_ (Word Count: 410)

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"Wh-aaat?! Mamoru-baka got me a present?!"

"I can always withhold it, if you like," Mamoru muttered grudgingly from beside her, handing her a small be-ribboned box. "Here, knock yourself out."

Usagi shot him a pointed glare as she snatched the box from his hand and pulled at the ribbon, retorting irritably, "I'll knock _you_ out if it turns out to be another can of spaghetti. That was so _not_ funny!"

Titters heard around the circle indicated otherwise. Usagi ignored them, along with Makoto's loud whisper of "It's probably marinara sauce this time!"

The renewed giggles were abruptly cut off, however, by the odd choking noise that Usagi made when she pulled the lid off the box.

Followed by a blank stare. Then…

"What _is_ it?"

Everyone leaned forward in anticipation as she pulled a miniature alarm clock out of the box, along with a slip of paper. Written on it was a single, neatly handwritten word:

"Time." Minako looked over incredulously at Mamoru. "You got her _time_?"

Mamoru leaned back in his seat, seemingly unperturbed by the looks he was receiving. "That's right."

Usagi looked around uncomprehendingly. "Can he even DO that?"

Makoto, who was holding the clock up to the light for examination, exclaimed, "Yo, Mamoru! What kind of a cheap-ass are you? This clock doesn't even work!" She pointed angrily to the hands, which were doomed forever to remain sacred guardians of 6:30.

Even Motoki looked a bit grim. He leaned over and said to Mamoru, shaking his head slightly, "Sorry, man, but you've taken it a little too far. I don't think _time_ is a suitable birthday present."

At his words, Mamoru seemed, if anything, to brighten. He snapped his fingers as if in realization, sitting up straighter. "You know, you're right."

"I am?"

He looked straight at Usagi. "Completely, damn right."

It was Usagi's turn to ask the puzzled question. "He is?"

Mamoru shrugged, standing up abruptly and jamming his hands into his pockets. "I was right, then, at least." He raised a finger to point at the clock in the corner of the arcade, and Usagi looked up. It read exactly 6:30 p.m.

"If the present can't be Time, then there's obviously no time like the present!" he finished cheerfully.

And without another word, he walked up to Usagi and kissed her.

There might not be any other time like the present, but there was _definitely_ no present like a well-deserved kiss from Chiba Mamoru.

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You got _that_ right. Damn straight there's nothing like a kiss from Chiba Mamoru. (Hear, hear!) I hope you all got what happened there…

Anyway, get ready for the third installment of the triad—"Future!" I haven't got anyone to scan through my stories beforehand anymore, but I hope this new system still works!

Ala Verity


	13. Future

Author's Note: If you haven't read "Past" and "Present" already (#11 & 12), I suggest you do so before moving on to this one! I got this idea when I realized I couldn't compete with, er, myself. And I'm _still_ not sure I like it—but well, that's up to you, I guess! Do be nice.

Sap alert! I think all authors should be forced to put these up. It gets sappy and sentimental. More sentiment, less sap. Period.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_13. Future_ (Word Count: 866)

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"No! You don't get it, Motoki—I'm completely out of ideas!"

Motoki pulled one leg to rest on the other and settled back more comfortably in his chair, eyeing his friend curiously. "Really? How do you figure?"

He watched Mamoru rake a hand jerkily through his hair, taking satisfaction in knowing that his friend was at least human; Motoki hadn't seen him so agitated in, well—_ever_.

"I ran _out_!" Mamoru moaned hopelessly, hitting at the wall with his hand. "I've just been so busy making sure the last two themes were _perfect_—I was charming, witty, smooth, anything and everything to win Usagi over—"

Motoki raised an eyebrow.

"—that I completely forgot to prepare something for this one! I mean—"

He paused to draw in a shuddering breath before continuing shakily, "'Past' and 'present' were just so…so _easy_ to get around! Anyone can be romantic if he throws out cheesy lines like 'it started with the past' or 'there's no time like the present'…But what—" And here he threw up his hands, "what the HELL, Motoki, is going to rhyme with, sound like, or double-meaning with the word '_future_?!'"

Motoki had a suggestion, but he didn't really think "furniture" counted as a rhyme.

"Uhhh…don't worry, man, you're—"

What, getting married in an hour? Entering a whole new stage of your life and hopelessly clueless as to how to go about it? What? Think, Motoki, think!

"—really really good-looking?"

Mamoru stopped panicking long enough to shoot a look of disbelief at Motoki. "Sorry, Motoki, but you're not my _type_."

Motoki grinned, shrugging. "It was worth a shot. You're still single, aren't you? Er, for now at least."

Oops. Bad choice of words. He watched the color flood out of Mamoru's face faster than flushed-out diarrhea. Okay, bad _analogy_. You still get the point. It went out FAST.

"_Single_?" Mamoru croaked, looking at Motoki in horror. "Oh my God, Motoki—I'm getting married in an _hour_!"

"Funny. Are you really? You make it sound more like death row."

Mamoru buried his face in his hands as he sank into a chair in the corner. "Motoki, what am I gonna do…?"

Motoki rolled his eyes; not that he wasn't sympathetic, but it got old after five or six hours of listening to the same agonies.

"Do you really have to do anything?"

Mamoru peered blearily out from his hands at him. "What?"

"You heard me. Do _you_—" Motoki shot him a defiant look. "—_have_ to do anything?"

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?" Mamoru gaped at the blonde. "Of course I have to do something! I'm the groom! I'm supposed to be clever and charming! Her whole family's watching! And Usagi's _expecting_ something!"

Motoki shook his head as a bell outside rang, signaling his departure. "Hey, man, she's the one who's head-over-heels in love with you. You should know."

He got up to leave, giving his friend one last piercing look. "I've known Usagi-chan as long as you have, Mamoru, and the way I see it, she doesn't expect anything but _you_ up there today." Pausing at the doorway, he added, "Sometimes simplicity works as well as anything else, Mamoru. Just remember that."

And with those final words, he turned to go, leaving a distressed Mamoru to ponder over his meaning.

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She looked absolutely radiant.

Mamoru had been stunned when she stepped out from behind the double-doors, thought he had been imagining an angel. And yet here she was, standing in front of him now, her brilliant blue eyes gazing wondrously into his, her smile never wavering once.

"We are gathered here today…"

Mamoru's hands instinctively tightened over Usagi's, and she squeezed gently back, the twinkle in her eye catching the sunlight. She really did look like a goddess.

"…in sickness or in health, so long as you both—"

He drank in her beauty like a thirsted man in the desert, memories of the two of them flashing before his eyes—a kiss, a battle, a death, a rebirth…and now, finally, this.

"Do you, Chiba Mamoru, take the lovely Tsukino Usagi as your wife?"

Mamoru looked down at the woman before him, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt the warmth of her hands flow into him like an intoxicating rush. He was going to spend the rest of his life by the side of the woman that he loved.

And it was in that very moment, standing there with her with their whole lives ahead of them, that he finally realized it.

He had no idea what would happen, only knew that he would put all his trust, all his faith, in this angel before him.

So this was what it felt like to be free.

"I do."

Two simple words.

And as he watched Usagi's lips move to form the same words, listened faintly to the approving sighs in the crowd and leaned forward to lift her veil, heard her whisper, 'Mamo-chan, you're all I've ever wanted…' and smile at him, as he leaned in to kiss his bride, he knew only one thing for certain:

Simplicity was the key, and the future had never looked brighter.

The End (of the trilogy!)

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Moving onto new and fresh themes next time, so be prepared! I do hope you liked it; sappy stuff was never my strong suit, but you get the point. I still enjoyed writing it, though.

Write me! Ala Verity


	14. Closet

Okay, time to shift into slightly different gear! I had a hard time just getting out the last set of three, and this one came a little bit easier. But be warned—it's long! Bordering on drabble misdemeanor, really. But I think (and hope) it's worth it! It was definitely fun to write.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_14. Closet_ (Word Count: 1029—yeowch, this one's really long!)

Everyone knows that closets are the favorite spot of congregation for lurking evil things.

"I am NOT going in there."

Everyone, apparently, except my friends.

"Oh come on, Usagi-chan," I heard Minako whine from the circle behind me. "You're being no fun!"

"_Fun_?" I whirled on her, secretly glad for an excuse to turn away from the door in front of me. "I have to go in THERE with the biggest jerk of the century, and you're telling _me_ I'm no _fun_?"

Next to me, Mamoru shot me a baleful look. "I'm not _that_ bad," he muttered resentfully. I appropriately ignored him.

"Motoki," I complained, turning instead to the group softie, "I can't believe you're tolerating—no, _endorsing_ this!"

The blonde just smiled at me like he was oblivious to my plight. Like heck he was! "Rules of the game, Usagi-chan!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "We all did it!"

"Yeah, and you had the time of your life," I grumbled, watching as Minako and Motoki exchanged sickeningly sweet looks; they'd come of the closet looking like the lipstick-monster from the Negaverse just finished with them. I added pointedly, "_Y__ou_ weren't stuck with the devil here!"

"True."

"Point taken."

Mamoru simply groaned. "Whose side are you guys on, anyway? Look, Oda—"

Boy, if looks could kill.

"Fine! _Usagi_!" He threw up his hands. "I don't like it any more than you do, considering I'm stuck with a total ditz—"

Scratch that. My hands _could_ kill, and if murder weren't illegal—

"…but I guess if you're going to chicken out—"

"WHAT?!" I screeched, rounding on him. "I am NOT chickening out!"

Mamoru's agitation vanished like the socks from my dryer, only to be replaced by a cocky smirk. "Really. Prove it." He crossed his arms in challenge. "Seven full minutes."

Gulp. "F-fine! I will!"

And grabbing Mamoru defiantly with one hand, the doorknob with the other, I wrenched the closet door open before I had time to change my mind.

SLAM! The door shut behind us. Followed by total darkness.

I immediately started panicking.

What did you expect? Monsters love the dark, and I was scared out of my wits.

"Oh God, oh God, I can't do this…" My eyes frantically searched the oppressing darkness for an escape. "I hate this…somebody get me out of here…!"

From somewhere to my left, I heard Mamoru's voice say, "Come on, Odango, if I can handle you, then you can stand me for seven minutes, okay? Stop overreacting!"

How cute. He thought I was talking about _him_.

"No, I am NOT going to be okay!" I hissed, on the verge of hysterics. My hands flew against the wall like dancing spiders, and I shrieked as my hand hit something.

"AGGGH!!!"

"What? What is it?!" Mamoru's question was left unanswered as I bolted away from the corner, now absolutely _desperate_ for out. My life depended on—

"Ooomph!" I hit something warm.

Oh my God. The boogeyman!

Wait…I was pretty sure the boogeyman wasn't warm-blooded.

BLOODY MARY!

"Usagi! _Usagi_! It's me!" I heard his urgent voice as my body started shaking. "It's just me, Usagi!" I felt Mamoru's hands fumble clumsily in the dark for my shoulders, and the familiar warmth there restored me a little to my senses. Breathing heavily, I sank, half out of relief, against him and clenched my eyes shut.

"Just…don't…no…" I whimpered incoherently to his heartbeat, which pounded steadily against my ears. "Please…"

"Usagi," Mamoru murmured from above me. "Usagi, what are you so afraid of?"

The sandman. The boogeyman. Deranged tooth fairy fugitives.

"Nothing." I said it almost defiantly. I heard him chuckle.

"Maybe we should try a different approach. You know, do something to keep you occupied so you won't have to think about the mad tooth fairies that might be living in here."

He read me like a book, which was pretty amazing considering how dark it was. How many people can read books in pitch blackness?

"O-okay," I managed shakily, trying to quell my trembling against his body. His touch felt soothing. "What…what should we do?"

I felt him shift against me, and suddenly his breath was warm against my right cheek. He whispered softly, "We could start with what we came in here to do in the first place."

And before I knew what was happening, I felt a pair of soft lips press down against mine.

I knew this guy had talent…but perfect aim in pure darkness? This guy was a GOD.

Delayed reactions kicked in. I could taste him, his lips moving against mine, as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled me in closer. I kissed him back, just as fervently, if not with more passion. My hands moved of their own volition and pulled his head down further, and I let out a small moan of satisfaction at the unexpected, mind-blowing result.

Okay, maybe I could deal with this closet-phobia a little while longer.

I don't know how long we were in there. On second thought, it was probably well over seven minutes, or they wouldn't have come to get us. Because suddenly (and we were a little too busy to really notice), light flooded in from the doorway.

We ignored it. I was a creature of the dark now, anyway.

What we couldn't ignore, however, was the series of successive noises that followed afterwards.

THUNK.

THUMP.

THUD.

WHUMP.

BAM.

THWUMP.

SPLAT.

"Huh?"

We broke apart just in time to see Ami, the only one left standing valiantly in the doorway and gaping at the two of us. She managed a small "eep" before she keeled over too, making a nice SPLUNK noise in the pool of limbs at her feet.

Mamoru and I just looked at our friends, stacked up on the floor, and back at each other in amusement.

"I wonder what set _them_ off," he finally commented. "That's too bad, I was hoping for some privacy." He flashed me a quirky grin. "What do you think, Usagi?"

Stepping over the entangled pile of bodies and pulling Mamoru along by the hand behind me, I replied firmly, "Come on, I think there's another closet down the hall."


	15. Mistake

Sorry about the multiple updates! I was having some problems with this chapter. Enjoy!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_15. Mistake_ (Word Count: 486)

"I can't believe Ami ditched me for cram school and left me in the clutches of the devil himself!" Usagi complained, bemoaning the act of her traitorous friend.

"Just answer the question, smart-mouth. What's six times seven?"

Usagi tapped her pencil impatiently against the edge of the table. "Forty-two?"

Mamoru let out a sigh of relief. "Good. So that's—" He checked his watch, wearing a look of detached amusement. "Sixteen minutes, thirty-six different guesses, and twenty-five more problems to go. And that's just simple multiplication." He shot her a sarcastic look. "_Joy_."

"Okay, look," Usagi huffed angrily, staring up at her archenemy defiantly, "I didn't ask for you to help me—"

"—and I'm guessing you didn't ask to be academically incompetent either, did you?" he observed, leaning back arrogantly in his seat. He was met with a glare of pure hatred, but Usagi seemed to have enough sense to know that she couldn't afford losing his help. "Alright," he continued, "Now if you're finished whining, we can go on."

Usagi folded her arms and did not respond. Mamoru sighed again, peering down at the mixed-subject review sitting in front of him.

"There's another mistake."

Usagi's eyes narrowed as he pushed the paper in front of her. "Odango, tell me, what's the capital of the United States?"

She studied the sheet for a moment, and looked up at him. "I wrote New York."

"I know what you _wrote_, Odango, but your work is careless. Think! What's the capital of the United States?"

Usagi twirled her pencil speculatively between her fingers. "Washington?"

"Close. It's Washington D.C., to be exact." Mamoru saw her frown and added hurriedly, "But that's improvement, Odango! You're getting quicker. You know the answers, you just have to focus sometimes."

She brightened considerably at his words. "Really? Okay, next!"

He smiled. "Spell 'infatuation.'"

"I-N-F-A…"

She bit her lip for a moment, hesitating, and Mamoru silently urged her on. "Um…T-A-Wait, no! U-A-T-I-O-N. Infatuation!" she finished proudly, smiling happily up at him.

"Good. Now seventy-two divided by nine is not six."

"Oops. Eight." Usagi scratched out her previous answer and wrote the correct one in.

"The biggest animal to ever exist was not the dinosaur."

"Oops. Blue whale." Scribble.

"June 6, 1944 did not involve World War I."

"Oops. American D-day Omaha Beach invasion."

"152 plus 38 is not 220."

"Oops. 190."

"You don't hate me."

"Oops, I love y—"

Her pencil hovered over the page, floating for a moment above the nonexistent mistake. Then her eyes grew wide as she realized what she had almost let slip.

"Umm…" Usagi mumbled, looking down hastily at the table. "I didn't—I mean, that—forget what I—"

"No," she heard Mamoru interrupt suddenly, and at the sound of his voice she chanced an apprehensive peek up at him.

He was smiling.

"No," he repeated softly. "Try again. Your answer was right the first time."


	16. Behind the Blue Curtain

My missing muse has been either muse-napped or gone MIA, and I'm ready to cry over it! A serious wave of writer's block (blockade, more like) came over me since an avalanche of work was poured like cement over my head, and it doesn't help that it's freezing over here, so my typing-fingers aren't working properly! Neither ::sob:: is my creative side! So please, please, please be nice this time through! It took me four days to get this out of my defunct system, and while I'm still not satisfied at _all_, I do need this. Boo-hoo.

Oh, and on a much happier note--do check out chewy1's drabbles! She's got a very good sense of style, and I'd definitely recommend them! Flood her review pages with the comments she loves and deserves!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_16. Behind the Blue Curtain_ (Word Count: 991)

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"Once upon a time…" Mamoru began, "in the faraway land of Dermenshire…"

"Tra-la-la-la!"

Usagi's blond hand puppet popped up happily on the other side of curtain. "Ahh," she sighed wistfully, her voice shrill, "what a beautiful morning!"

It was indeed, _not_ a beautiful morning at all. When Mamoru had gotten the somewhat desperate call from Motoki late last night to help out with his little sister's volunteer work, he had _not_ imagined spending his time crouched behind a little blue-curtained puppet theater, reading silly fairy tales to a class of kindergarteners—with Tsukino Usagi, of all people!

"In the royal palace there lived a golden-haired princess, heir to the Dermenian throne. Her name was Ne—" Mamoru paused and glanced over at Usagi with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eye. His lips curled into a devilish smile.

"—Princess Nincompoop."

"Hi, class!" Usagi's puppet waved cheerfully. "I'm Princess Nin—"

Usagi froze, the very words evaporating on her lips as fast as they had come. Mamoru watched gleefully as her eyes swept down the page before she whipped her head up to meet his gaze furiously.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she hissed at him, her eyes flashing. "Can't you read, or do they not teach you how to at school?! Her name's '_Necomphenilia_'!"

Mamoru merely cocked his head at her with a smile, as if to say, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Usagi clenched her jaw tightly.

"Princess Nincompoop," she finally growled through gritted teeth, her eyes boring holes into the blue curtain in front of her. Mamoru grinned.

Of course, the war never ends with a battle.

He continued, "The princess waited patiently. She spent fifteen long years waiting for one her one true love, Pri—"

"Prince Poopoodelli of Dumbershire!"

Mamoru looked around slowly to see Usagi grinning, her expression undeniably jubilant.

Promptly throwing aside the script, Mamoru jammed his hand into a second puppet with a sudden surge of determination. If she wanted to play—oh, he'd play, all right!

"Hi, guys!" the dark-haired doll squeaked as it popped up suddenly from under the curtain, causing several students to jump in their seats. "I'm Prince Poopoodelli, and I'm the suitor of the ugliest girl in the kingdom!"

If it was a war she wanted, he was going to give her a fight she'd never forget.

Usagi narrowed her eyes at her real-life enemy before squealing in mock excitement, "Yes, I'm so in _love_ with him—because only an equally ugly man would be perfect for _me_!"

"Tell me, _Princess_," the prince replied sweetly, looking up at his fair maiden, "what did they lock you up in the tower for today? Talking off the ear of the Duke of Dunceland?"

"No, they tell me they lock me up here to keep me away from riffraff like you!"

"Sounds like you need saving, Your Highness. Don't jump though," the prince warned as Usagi watched Mamoru's own vicious smile growing next to her. "You'll break my neck with your weight. You must be heavier than a baby blue whale!"

"Takes one to know one," she countered readily, sticking her tongue out in Mamoru's face.

"So you admit it! You're a big tub of ice cream-devouring lard!" Mamoru retorted easily, gesturing so excitedly with his hands that the poor puppet on the other side started banging himself against the theater ledge.

"I—I am NOT!" Usagi was now up on her knees, her back arched like an angry cat's. He was shaking with mirth. "You take that back!"

"Take what back?" Mamoru replied innocently, smiling guilelessly at Usagi. "The fact that you're bigger than a baby blue, or that you look like one too?"

"_You_—!" Usagi bared her teeth, the show completely forgotten as she too thumped her royal monarch puppet against the theater window indignantly. "You are the single-most foul, most…_frustrating_ man on earth!" she screeched, so that on the other side of the curtain, now-gaping five-year-olds had to cover their precious little ears.

"Take _this_, baka!"

And without another thought, Usagi slammed her puppet hand into Mamoru's.The blond princess went flying into the dark-haired prince as Usagi and Mamoru collided bodily, toppling over onto the floor. The children's shrieks of "Oh my _gosh_, look what they're _doing_!" were drowned out as Usagi and Mamoru were both sent, whale-weight and all, kicking and scratching, tumbling into the small wooden theater.

_Crash!__ Bam! BOOM!_

"EEK!"

"AGH!"

…Followed by a very fragile silence.

When the dust had finally settled, the wreckage revealed a still-wrestling pair on the ground, grunting and groaning as they kicked, nipped, and bit.

Heck, even the teacher could only stare.

That is, before a loud whisper broke the semi-silence.

"Look! They're doing—"

"…_IT._"

"Oooh—"

"Wow. _It_."

"So _that's_ what it looks like!"

There were titters and giggles. All the children leaned forward as one for a better look of "it."

And nobody, not even the battling puppeteers, could miss that last insinuation.

Going stock-still and looking at each other in growing horror, Usagi and Mamoru realized too late what exactly "it" "looked like."

Usagi's body was prostrated directly across Mamoru's, her face mere inches from his own, her hands wound up tightly in his. They were both panting heavily, their breaths mixing tantalizingly. And best of all, even the two puppets were locked in a passionate embrace, in a suggestive position inappropriate for, well, _anyone_ to see.

An eternity seemed to pass by. Finally, a little boy at the front of the classroom declared with a knowing smirk,

"Hotel rooms work better than flimsy blue curtains, you know."

BLUSH. Shameless!

But somewhere deep inside, as they both lay still on the ground, her body pressed close against his warm chest, their cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and neither daring—or wanting—to make the first move away, they were both thinking the same thing.

_Maybe fairy tales do come true, after all._

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::Steals puppet and smacks herself with it::

Ergh…! I really hope the block goes away soon. :( Be kind!

Ala Verity


	17. Ice Cream

Tra-la-la-la! I'm in the mood for some _ice cream_! Never mind the fact that it's near-Artic outside and I'm on a Special K diet. ::drool:: This makes me so hungry…

I can't tell you how HAPPY I am to post this. I felt like the last drabble was inadequate (dearth of reviews reflects reader opinion, you know!), and so I am just so glad to be back! (Ooh, but the reviews that I did get were really encouraging and helped me write, so thank you!)

Let me explain real quick that, like Past-Present-Future, these three drabbles (yes! All for the same theme, how nice, right? Hopefully that means I can say bye-bye to writer's block!) are part of a larger whole. They represent a sort of chronological sequence, but are still solid entities of their own, too. I don't want to cheat the drabble system too bad. So with that said, read on!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_17. Ice Cream_

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_Drabble Number 1 _(Word Count: 273)

"Oh…my God…" Usagi's eyes grew impossibly wide as she leaned slowly over Mamoru's shoulder. "Heaven."

If she was talking about the new busboy behind him, Mamoru was going to have a word with Motoki about his employee hiring policy. After he'd washed the blood off his hands, of course. And the knife.

Usagi sank back into her seat and turned to Mamoru, who was sitting across the booth from her. "Quick, pinch me! Am I dreaming?"

"Odango, what the heck are you—"

"It's the _ice cream man_!" she shrieked.

And without further delay, Usagi jumped out of her seat as if she had been scalded by fire and ran for the door.

"Geez, what phantom's _she_ seen?" Motoki asked as he passed by their table, on his way to the back room. "Or no, let me guess—"

"Yu-up. It's the ice cream man."

They both turned to look out the window, watching as Usagi pounced on her five-scoop ice cream cone, beaming brightly at the man inside the truck.

Motoki laughed. "She sure does have a sweet tooth, doesn't she? I've never seen a girl so eager to see a guy as Usagi with the ice cream ma—Mamoru?"

"How much do you think it costs to buy an ice cream truck, Motoki?"

Motoki looked down at his friend, who was still staring out the window with a dreamy look on his face. He raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea, man. What in the world would you need an ice cream truck for?"

Mamoru sighed, pulling his wistful gaze away from the smiling girl outside. "It's nothing, Motoki. Absolutely nothing."

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_Drabble Number 2 _(Word Count: 887)

_Tingaling dee doo, dee doo, ding ding…_

Mamoru looked down at his watch as the sound of tinkling music saluted his ears.

'Three…Two…One…'

ZOOM! A flurry of wind behind him made his hair ripple slightly. He smiled.

Bingo.

The ice cream man was here.

Turning leisurely to look out the still-open arcade doors, Mamoru spotted Usagi, predictably beaming as she took her order from a young man leaning out the truck window.

She would buy a triple-scoop waffle cone with mocha-almond fudge on the bottom, strawberry cheesecake in the middle, and a new surprise flavor on the top. The perfect ice cream cone—a treat always fresh and exciting, yet dependable and delightful all the same.

Just like Usagi.

Propping his chin lazily on his hand, Mamoru watched as the man disappeared into the truck, undoubtedly to fix up her order. Focusing his eyes dreamily on Usagi, he wondered vaguely whether buying an ice cream truck would make her run _his_ way that fast.

His insides squirmed pleasantly at the thought.

By the time he returned to his senses, Usagi was happily receiving her cone from the hand of the young ice cream man. Mamoru sighed wistfully and waited for her to return to the arcade; if he couldn't be the one she ran to, he could at least be the one she came back to.

That was, unless she wasn't coming back, either.

Mamoru frowned as he watched Usagi, who was being, in his opinion, unnecessarily detained by the boy in the truck. The white-capped teenager leaned forward on both elbows as Usagi finally managed to pull out a small wad of quarters and dollar bills from her pocket.

Then, in what Mamoru considered a blatant death wish, the worker placed his hand over hers…and closed Usagi's fingers back over her change. The gesture plainly read, _Don't worry, I've got you covered_.

Like hell he did.

Standing up rather suddenly, Mamoru decided he had a sudden craving for ice cream.

Then he jammed his hands into his pockets and stalked out of the arcade, making a beeline for the couple standing in front of the parked white truck.

"A beautiful girl like yourself should stop by more often," an unfamiliar male voice was saying as Mamoru approached nearer. "I hear an ice cream a day keeps the blemishes away."

Mamoru's eyes immediately swiveled on Usagi, to better gauge her indignation at being treated like an aesthetic doll. To his eternal dismay, however, she simply smiled.

"Really?!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down in excitement. "Wait'll my mom hears this! She'll _have_ to let me buy ice cream for sure!"

"Yeah, if she likes having a whale for a daughter."

Usagi stopped mid-jump to see Mamoru, looking perfectly composed (and handsome) in a white dress shirt and slacks, walking up to the ice cream truck.

He came to a stop next to her and leaned casually against the windowsill, effectively making Usagi's hand shoot out from underneath a disgruntled ice cream man's as she pointed at him in surprise. "What are _you_ doing here? You don't even _like_ ice cream!"

"I'll have two orders of what Motor-mouth here is having," Mamoru said pointedly to the grumbling ice cream man, ignoring Usagi's own mutters. Mamoru cast a sidelong glance at the blonde; she was licking away at the top scoop—caramel-ribboned chocolate fudge today—and peering wistfully after the young man getting the ice cream inside. He returned shortly and shoved the cones into Mamoru's hands with a sulky glance at the two of them.

"Thanks," Mamoru said cheerfully, sliding a bill onto the sill, seemingly unperturbed by the man's rudeness. "Keep the change."

Usagi eyed him and his purchase suspiciously. "Why are you in such a good mood today, Mamoru? And what—" She licked her lips in anticipation. "What are you going to do with two ice cream cones?"

"I'll buy you another one on the house, if you want!" the young man interrupted with a glare at Mamoru, desperate for Usagi's attention. "_I_ always say it's best to treat a girl like a woman."

"Oh, really?! I don't know…" Usagi looked torn between being polite and accepting a free treat. The young man took advantage of her hesitation and leaned forward.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'll grab you a cone and then we can—"

_SPLAT_.

Usagi blinked. Where his face had been a second ago, there was now a pile of smushed ice cream.

Then, turning her head ever so slowly, Usagi's eyes travelled from the offending dairy product, up the brown-wafer cone, and all the way along an outstretched arm.

Her jaw dropped. Mamoru had hit him square in the face with an ice cream cone.

Glancing disinterestedly at the ice cream-splattered face, Mamoru turned to leave as if nothing had happened, shoving his still-intact cone into Usagi's hand as he passed her. "Here, take it."

He was halfway to the arcade entrance before Usagi found her voice again.

"H-hey, wait!" she shouted after him, still holding the cone in one hand. "Why are you giving me your ice cream?!"

He called back without turning around, "I don't like the flavors, Odango."

Anyway, he thought as he walked with a smile back into the arcade, vengeance tasted sweeter than any ice cream ever could.

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_Drabble Number Three_ (Word Count: 716)

"Quick, Rei! I need to borrow a dollar!"

Her friend drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. "Again? What do you need it for this time?"

"There's this new ice cream guy on the corner and his sign says that he has 56 flavors!" Usagi moaned loudly, clutching Rei's arm. "Fifty-six, Rei-chan! That's 25 more than Baskin Robbins!"

Rei raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you could do math, Odango."

Motoki added from the counter, "Haven't you already had ice cream twice this theme, Usagi-chan?"

Rei eyed her incredulously. "You did?"

"PLEASE!"

"All right, all right! Don't lose your panties over it, okay?" Rei dug out a dollar and jammed it into Usagi's outstretched hands. "There. Go feed the starving children of the world."

"Ooh, thanks, Rei!" And she zipped out of the arcade at top speed.

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'That must be it!' Usagi thought to herself as she neared the street corner, where a long line of people were queued up in front of a small ice cream truck. Jumping exuberantly into line, her eyes scanned greedily over the list of flavors posted on the side of the truck.

"Triple-Chocolate Fudge Frenzy…Strawberry Swirl Sensation…Marshmallow-Mocha Madness…Ooh, there's so many good flavors, I want to try them all!" Usagi whined, looking down sadly at the lone dollar in her hand. She pouted and looked up again. "Well, I guess I'll just—Bless my soul, what's this?"

Usagi's sharp eyes alighted on a small poster displayed next to the long list of flavors. It announced in bold letters, "MONSTER ICE CREAM SPECIAL—Get all 56 flavors in one monster-sized cup for only a dollar! Limited time offer available to customers who fulfill the following requirements…"

Her eyes skimmed down the page as she read them aloud. "Fifteen years old, blond-haired girl, attends Juuban Middle School, and—" Usagi squinted. "—must have the initials T.U.!"

She froze. Then…

"THAT'S ME!" she exclaimed, jumping up so exuberantly that the people in front of her edged nervously out of the way. "I fulfill all the requirements for the Monster Special! Yay!"

"Can I help you?"

"Ohh—oh, yeah!" Usagi pointed eagerly at the poster. "I'd like the Monster Special, please, with extra spri—huh?"

She looked up.

"MAMORU?!"

"Hi, Odango," Mamoru said, leaning forward on the windowsill with grin on his face. "Can I help you with something?" (AN: Yay! Mamoru finally bought his ice cream truck!)

"I—I—" she sputtered, staring agape at the white-capped man in front her, his black bangs just barely teasing his bright blue eyes. She finally managed, "What are _you_ doing here?!"

"Can't say I can say the same for you," Mamoru laughed, turning and handing off the order to a helper (he hired a helper, too?!) in the back. "I had a feeling you would show up." He propped his chin on one hand, smiling as he observed her reaction.

"I—you bought an ice cream truck," Usagi whispered, her eyes wide in amazement, or shock, or both.

"Yu-up. You like it?"

Usagi nodded dumbly.

"Well, good! You can come back every day for the special. And if you promise me that," he winked, "I'll give you today's for free so poor Rei can have her money back!"

Usagi smiled tremulously at the joke, wringing her hands somewhat nervously. "Do you—that is, why…?"

She looked up at him hesitantly, and the unfinished sentence seemed to linger in mid-air between them.

"I wanted to see you," Mamoru finally said softly as the sounds of opening and closing freezer doors thudded in the background. "If it means that I get to see you and that bright smile of yours every day…then sure, I'm more than willing to work at this sweet shop."

Usagi didn't know if it was the ice cream. She didn't know if it was the wonderful smell of the chocolate or vanilla or strawberry or a million other things mixed in that truck, or maybe the closeness of Mamoru's face and his own intoxicating scent that drove her to do it. But she did.

She leaned up and kissed him, straight through the open window.

And Usagi thought to herself as their lips touched, that she was a fool for having thought she knew the meaning of sweetness before that moment.

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Aww, happy ending for them at last!

I really hope you liked it! That took a while to crank out (thank goodness for the weekends), but I'm praying that it means my block is over for now. Thank you, as always, to my faithful supporters and new readers alike—let me know what you thought! And do tell me which one was your favorite!

I scream, you scream, we all scream for—

REVIEWS!!! .


	18. Death

(Author's Note: A few revisions at the bottom of Number One!)

It's a stretch but…I hope you like it!

And where has everyone gone? I get one writer's block and everyone runs while they have the chance, is that it?

Na-ah, just kidding (sort of)! Big thanks, as always, to those of you I can always count on for constructive and positive feedback—you know who you are!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_18. Death_

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_Drabble Number One_ (Word Count: 681)

"No…you can't leave me…please…!"

A soft, strangled sob escaped her throat. Usagi bit down hard on her lower lip, fighting back another onslaught of threatening tears pooling up in her crystalline blue eyes. Her voice was heart-wrenchingly imploring, as if she could will him back to life simply by speaking.

As if, as long as her mouth kept forming the words, his heart would continue beating.

"I can't do this…not now…don't—don't…" A tremor wracked her body as she gazed beseechingly into those wide, unblinking eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare straight through her, never more to greet the light of day or the brilliance of the expansive night sky. "PLEASE!" she cried, her palms slamming down against the ground in desperation.

"Please…"

His mouth had gone slack, locked into a perpetual "o" shape, as if he had left this world whispering an unfinished prayer.

Usagi saw his lifeless form, and her heart broke.

Things didn't have to be this way.

"Why…?" she choked, now tilting her head back towards the heaven, the tears streaming freely down her cheeks. "_Why_ did this have to happen? Why _now_?!"

She suddenly doubled over, gasping for breath as the onslaught of thoughts and memories flooded her mind. They had just—she had only begun to know him, to memorize his radiant features, to even dare dream of a future…a future where both of them could live, together…

She had finally found someone to call her own, truly hers and hers alone…and now the world had taken him from her.

She had lived a lifetime for Death.

Usagi lowered herself slowly to the ground, trembling, until the whole weight of her body seemed to crush her from above. She dropped to her hands and knees, the tears falling unchecked, her lips moving frantically, over and over, whispering his name…

"…Usako?"

Usagi's head shot up.

She gazed, for a second, uncomprehending…and suddenly her eyes grew wide. She stared, unseeing, unbelieving, at the specter-like figure standing over her, until her body shook and fine tremors ran through the length of her spine. Just as her arms seemed to lose all strength, however, she felt a pair of warm hands catch her, lifting her up again.

"Usako," a voice murmured into her hair, arms pulling her in close. "Usako, what's the matter, honey?"

"Mamo-chan…" The words came out in a whisper. "Oh, Mamo-chan…what are you, why—?"

Then, suddenly, Usagi leaned sharply back and whipped her head up, pointing a trembling finger at something next to them.

"Mamo-chan, he's _dead_!"

Slowly, Mamoru's eyes followed the direction of her pointer finger, preparing himself for the worst. What he saw was a small, clear bowl, and inside…

A perfectly healthy, perfectly alive goldfish.

He paused for a moment…

And burst into laughter.

"Mamo-chan, what—?" Usagi looked up at him, bewildered, as his chuckles rang throughout the room. "Why—why are you _laughing_, Mamo-chan? How could you, he's—!"

"Alive, Usako," Mamoru laughed, his bright blue eyes twinkling in a ray of sunshine from outside. "He's perfectly fine."

"But…but Mamo-chan!" Usagi protested with a confused look as Mamoru pulled her back into her arms and laid her head comfortingly against his chest. "I don't get it! His eyes were wide open, and…and his mouth, and…"

Mamoru looked over once more at the tiny goldfish, grinning over Usagi's shoulder as he watched a miniature bubble float from its still-open mouth.

"Don't worry about it, Usako," he said, with a wink at his new fish friend. "If you take good care of us, I promise we'll both be around for a very, very long time."

He leaned in, but Usagi pulled back slightly to gaze up at him. "Promise me one more thing."

"What's that?"

Usagi pointed accusingly at her gaping, wide-eyed goldfish. "That you'll never look like _that_, dead _or_ alive."

Mamoru drew her in close again with a chuckle. "I promise. Now can I get to the good part, or what?"

And with no words left to say between them, Mamoru leaned in and sealed his promise with a kiss.

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_Drabble Number Two_ (Word Count: 725)

'_Good morning, Daddy!'__ A bright smile lit up her face__ as she stumbled__ down the stairs in her pajamas_

"I'll kill him!"

"He won't die, Dad," Usagi replied calmly, stirring her cup of hot milk tea. "He's not an ant you can just squish, you know."

"And he's not _immortal_, either!" Tsukino Kenji whirled on his daughter, hands clenched tightly into fists. "If I kill him, that vermin won't come back from the dead!"

"Ha! Says you," she muttered under her breath. Then, louder, "That _vermin_ is my fiancé now, Papa! I love him."

_'__I love you, Daddy!__'__she murmured as s__he kiss__ed him on the cheek__ and ran out the door, pigtails whipping in her wake._

"That man's going to get a torching," her father muttered, his face red.

"Go ahead." Usagi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Considering how _hot_ he is to begin with, I doubt it'll make much of a difference."

"I'll—I'll shoot him!"

"Rock-hard abs and buns of steel? Nuh-uh. I don't think so. Mamo-chan's got the body of a _God_." She sighed dreamily before adding pointedly, "And anyway, I'm getting married, not kidnapped."

_'I won't ever get married! There's only one guy in the world for me, and that's you__, Daddy__!'_

"WHAT?! That—he _didn't_—GOD—?" He sputtered. "I'll _hang_ that—that creep!"

Usagi giggled, shaking her head. "If his beautiful neck gets any longer, we may have to contact the zoo to tell them we've found a new species of giraffe!"

Kenji stared at his daughter, gaping. Then…

"…My daughter is _not_ marrying a _giraffe_! I'll KILL him!"

"Please, Dad. It was a hyperbole." Usagi rolled her eyes. "And I'm not bringing a dead husband to show-and-tell. Believe it or not, I'm _not_ in kindergarten anymore."

_'Let's go, Daddy! It's bring-your-dad-to-school day today, and I want to show everyone the best papa in the world!'_

For a few moments, Kenji fumed silently, his shoulders heaving heavily as he watched his daughter sip her drink thoughtfully. Finally, Usagi sighed and carefully set down her cup, propping her chin on her hand before she spoke again.

"You can kill him if you want, Dad." She looked up at him and smiled wistfully. "But you know, there are some kinds of love that transcend even death. Just like you love Mom, and me, and even Shingo. I'll love him forever and beyond, Papa."

And in that moment, as Usagi looked off into the distance with that dreamy smile gracing her lips, Tsukino Kenji saw not only the innocent, angelic little girl she had always been to him, but the mature woman of nineteen she had become.

'_Don't worry, Daddy. I'll always be your little girl.__'_

He stood there in the middle of the kitchen floor, unmoving, for what seemed an eternity.

"Daddy…?" Usagi looked up, her voice hesitant.

When her father finally brought his face up to hers again, she saw that he was smiling. "You know, Usa…some people say that there's nothing worse than death. I even think so once in a while, when it comes to it. Can you tell?"

He chuckled, despite the sadness evident in his eyes. "But sometimes…sometimes I think that losing my little girl would be worse. Worse than losing life itself." His distant gaze was pensive, almost lonely. "And that…and that's when I have to remind myself that all I want is what's best for _you_, Usa." He managed another small, sad smile. "Even if that means letting you grow up."

Then he paused, leaning over Usagi's shoulder and adding, ever so softly, "Mamoru's a fine young man, Usa. Remind me when I forget it, won't you?"

There was a moment's silence. Then, suddenly, Tsukino Kenji felt a pair of small, warm arms wrap around him as Usagi buried her face into his familiarly comforting shoulder. "Oh, Daddy…!" she murmured through her laughter, tears coming to her eyes. She looked up at him, beaming, her bright blue eyes sparkling.

"I meant it the first time, Daddy," she whispered. "No matter what…I'll _always_ be your little girl."

_And as he watched her trudge off towards the school bus, backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder and __still __rubbing the sleep blearily out of her eyes, he could only think that he must have done something extraordinary__ in his lifetime__ to deserve a daughter like Usagi._

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I do hope you liked them They're both kind of..."out there," you might say. Not your typical take on "death," maybe, but I can't tell you for myself if that's a good or a bad thing. That's up to you! (Disclaimer: No, I'm not a passive freak sitting here waiting for you to bombard me with your opinion. I do have my own! But it's always nice to have an excuse to here from you, yeah?)

Ah! As for the second, not a Usagi-Mamoru, per se, but it would be a shame, through all of these fics developing their story and romance, not to paint the bigger picture. I came up with this idea late one night (or early one morning, whichever) in bed; and when I sat down to write it—guess what song came on? "Daddy's Girl" from the SM soundtrack! I hadn't even planned that, really. But inspiration comes and goes, and so that's half of the fuzzy-warm feeling that comes with this piece. I hope you liked it! Write to me!

Ha! And I hope everyone caught the "back-from-the-dead" joke. They've been reincarnated what, about a hundred times and counting?

::Begging, begging you—put your [review love and [writing hand out, baby!::

--Jersey Boys Soundtrack, "Beggin'" (originally sung by the Four Seasons)

Ala Verity


	19. Liar

After a week of torment and self-flagellation…I'm back! And better than ever. Okay, not exactly, as I've got a seemingly chronic case of writer's block and block-o-phobia to plague me, but I've finally got it out:) You know the medicine! Write away, and cure me! This isn't a one-woman show, y'know. I may be independent, but in the face of globalization, I think a little bit of compassion is in order, don't you?

I wrote on one idea for the past five days or so, scrapped it, and came up with this in about an hour. Life does love to play its tricks, doesn't it?

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_19. Liar (Word Count: _552

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"Liar, liar, pants on a wire, sitting on top of a big fat fire!" Usagi taunted.

Mamoru slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. "I've never seen a worse insulter in my life."

"And I've never seen a worse liar!"

He looked up, eyebrows raised, at her bold accusation. "Yeah? How so?"

"Your lip moves when you lie," Usagi said matter-of-factly, pointing at his lips with her chocolate-dripping straw. "You try to hide it, but it does."

"Really?" Mamoru's lip twitched slightly, but mostly out of amusement. The poker-face king, caught? "Humor me, Odango."

"Well, for instance," Usagi began, licking her straw clean and sticking it back into her milkshake, "I can say whatever I want to with a straight face. Eye contact is essential."

She looked Mamoru directly in the eye, and he was slightly taken aback by the steadiness of her fierce gaze. He blinked and tried to resist the urge to look away. "See?" She giggled. "It makes your opponent fidgety!"

"I noticed," Mamoru muttered, feeling ansy despite himself. But for entirely different reasons than she imagined… "Just get on with it, will you?"

She smiled almost knowingly, her blue eyes twinkling. "Closeness helps too. The closer you are to your target, the better the chance that they'll feel your aura of _sincerity_." She leaned in, so close that Mamoru felt himself draw back unconsciously.

"I feel it," he murmured, his eyes growing wide as the distance between them closed to a mere finger's breadth.

"You have to keep your face set, and don a little pout that says, 'How could you even dream of not believing me? Don't you _trust_ me?'"

Her delicate features shifted into the aforementioned position, and Mamoru felt himself inexplicably mesmerized by the sight of her soft, pink lips. So close…

"I trust you," he whispered, as if in a trance.

"And Mamoru?"

"Yes?" he breathed, finally managing to tear his eyes away from her entirely kissable lips, only to find himself drowning in that gorgeous cerulean blue of her eyes. "Wh-what is it?"

"I passed my math exam today."

"Really." He nodded dumbly, his eyes darting down once more to stare at her lips.

A moment's silence. Then…

Usagi giggled softly. "I was lying, Mamoru." Her warm breath tickled his chin…it was enough to drive any man insane.

Mamoru raised slightly dazed eyes to hers. "I knew that." His mind, however, was still quite filled with the image of those lips, barely a centimeter from his own. And as he thought of how incredible, how amazing it would be to just lean in and kiss her…

His lips shifted in anticipation, ever so slightly.

"Liar," Usagi whispered, her eyes dancing joyfully over the sight of his moving lips. "You're the worst liar in the world."

And Mamoru, who for all the truths and lies on Earth could not seem to think of anything else to say, simply murmured, "I guess we'd better do something to quell that defiant lip, then, shouldn't we?"

In one swift movement, Mamoru closed the distance between them and stilled his lips against hers. And, he thought wistfully as his lips moved fervently against hers…for a guy who couldn't seem to keep his lips still anymore, he had never known a truer moment of bliss in his life.

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Phew! Let me know what you thought—or it's back to the rack for me! (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Don't send the police down here, please.) I'm going to "wrack" my brains for the solution, so I guess it's _torture_ either way! HA. HA. HA. Good one, Ala. Good one…

Oh, and thanks again to everyone who has been unconditionally supporting and encouraging me through all these ups and downs! It's been more of a help than I could ever put into words. You guys are amazing! Rock on!

Ala Verity


	20. Scars

It's been a long road so far, but the journey has only just begun…

Not even a month has passed since I first made my excursion into the wonderful world of drabbles, and I really do feel like I've accomplished something; not only because of what I've written, but because of your endless, boundless support and encouragement. Thank you and thank you forevermore! I really do love you guys, and it's really thanks to you all that I even made it this far. Hopefully we'll keep traveling down the road together, with more and more new experiences and friends along the way!

Now that I'm one-fifth of the way there, I really want to make a point of thanking the amazing readership that these drabbles have drawn in—you guys know who you are, so thank you, thank you, and thank you again! Keep on reading, and hopefully in turn I can keep you enjoying as well! A special thank you to chewy1 and MoonPrincessMagic (I believe I got that right, finally!)—my personal correspondents, alphas, and fellow drabblers. You guys never fail to amaze me with your work and progress. And finally, to all those writers out there, famous and budding alike, you are all a great inspiration to me and keep me writing, writing, writing. I cross my fingers and pray fervently for the day that you will take notice of all that's here for everyone to see. Until then or never, thank you one and all for simply being here! You guys are what makes the warm-fuzziness go round and round!

Awwww!

Much love, Ala Verity

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_20. Scars _(Word Count: 786)

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"I can't believe it," Mamoru muttered to himself as he peeled off the wet, white shirt that clung to his back like a second skin. "Of all the things—of all the _places_…"

He slung the dripping shirt over his shoulder irritably, working his hands through his hair in an attempt to dry it. Getting sprung by a highly-pressurized pipe hadn't been part of the day's agenda, and now he felt like he had just jumped into a zero-degree swimming pool. Or a swimming pool had jumped out at him.

Mamoru shivered slightly, his exposed and covered skin freezing alike in the drafty backroom. He could feel his teeth chattering as he pulled the still-damp shirt off of his shoulder again and gave it a good wringing out. Then, t-shirt still in hand, he glanced cautiously at the door before moving to unbuckle his belt, fingers half-numb and trembling.

It wasn't the faulty arcade plumbing that needed fixing, he thought grimly to himself as the buckle came undone—it was Motoki's head. What had he been thinking, asking Mamoru to fix the sink in below-freezing weather like this?

Mamoru dropped the belt onto the ground next to him and began unbuttoning his pants. His hands fumbled with the zipper, and he had just shrugged out of his black slacks when a small noise made him look up.

_Click_.

He froze, one leg already out of his soaking pants, as a cheerful voice called outside from the doorway, "I'll get it, Motoki!"

Mamoru's eyes widened in realization, and his pants flew back up in a flash. The door was opening, he was zipping up, somebody was coming in…

_Tug_.

…And for the love of God, his zipper was stuck.

Somebody laughed outside, and a chink of light fell across Mamoru's face as the door creaked open farther. "Don't worry, I'll be right th-there…oh my God."

CLUNK.

Mamoru's eyes, if possible, widened even more.

Standing in the doorway, gaping openly and looking completely astonished, was an utterly speechless Usagi. The small wooden bowl that fell to the floor from her limp hand spun crazy little circles around the floor before coming happily to a halt.

Whatever she had been coming to get from the storeroom, it certainly hadn't been a half-naked Chiba Mamoru.

Her eyes the size of teacup-saucers, they traveled down slowly from his tantalizingly wet, tousled hair, skimming over the smooth dampness of his face, lingering only for a moment on the chiseled outline of his jaw. Then down, down, down past his neck and—_gulp_—wandering over his lean torso, the evident firmness of his chest, along the sculpted length of his abs and his waist, and—

Bingo! Right down to his open fly.

The wet shirt in Mamoru's hand fluttered noiselessly to the ground.

For what seemed an eternity, she stood stock-still in the doorway, looking half ready to faint. Her mouth was open wide enough to fit an entire shoe into. And Mamoru could do nothing but stare back at her, looking equally dumbstruck, his hand stuck modestly in his pants and the top of his dark blue boxers peeking out with a wink at her.

And that was when Usagi suddenly found her voice.

"ACKK! BAKA!" she screamed, her horrified eyes flying up to Mamoru's. "I'm fifteen years old! What do you want to do, scar me for LIFE?!"

And with that bold proclamation, she ran out of the room as fast as she could and slammed the door behind her, leaving Mamoru in complete and total darkness.

He stayed, standing on that very spot without moving, for a very long time.

Meanwhile, Motoki looked up from where he was fixing up some drinks at the counter as the teenage girl returned. "Thanks, Usagi-chan, did you find the bananas all right?"

Usagi shook her head and plopped down at the table. "Nuh-uh." Oh, she had found bananas, all right, but not the kind that _he_ had any use for…

Motoki frowned. "You mean they weren't there?"

"No, they were there," she replied loftily, a mysterious twinkle lighting up in her eyes. "Mamoru offered to get them for me."

"Ahh. But isn't Mamoru—"

"He's _fine_." Hell yes he was! "Can I have a milkshake, Motoki?"

"Uhh, sure." Motoki cast Usagi an odd look, but didn't say anything as he moved away to fix up her order.

The moment he turned around, Usagi let loose the grin that she had been suppressing ever since she had walked out of the room, the image of a shirtless, boxered Mamoru burned forevermore into her memory. She giggled.

Yes, there were some scars that never faded, and Usagi couldn't say she was very sorry at all.

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Thank you again! See you on the other side of twenty!

Ala Verity

Author's Additional Note: I really do try my best to show my appreciation for my readers, but it helps so much more when I actually get to hear what you think. Please drop a note to let me know what you think! I do love you guys .


	21. Mischief

I recently had the honor of reading a few sets of older drabbles from the same challenge, written way back by loyal fanfiction Moonies when the LJ challenge just started up. I have to say that I am completely and totally amazed at the quality and originality of the works I read, so much so that I hope to kick off this next 20 with a bang. I can't say for myself, though, how I pale or brighten in comparison—I leave that entirely up to you guys. And yes, I _am_ celebrating the one-month anniversary since my drabble debut. So thank you so much, everybody, for sticking it out with me, and welcome to everyone else! I look forward to hearing from you!

Ala

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_21. Mischief_(Word Count: 884)

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They sat on the wall, all five of them, shoulder to shoulder in a row. Like five Humpty-Dumpty statues, waiting for something.

Passerby did what all people do in the awkward instance of walking past someone they either do not want to acknowledge, or are too embarrassed to look up at: Many of them became suddenly intrigued by the window displays clear across the street, and the rest simply stared down very hard at their feet until they either passed the human statues, pretending they didn't exist, or ran into someone else also glaring wide-eyed at their shoelaces.

Of course, this all just made it that much funnier.

A stifled giggle escaped from one of the girls' lips as a man, who found himself inexplicably immersed in the cracks in the pavement, nearly steamrollered a beagle.

"Shh!"

Another tinkle of laughter.

"Usagi-chan, it's your turn!" somebody along the wall whispered.

"Right!" Usagi chirped with a giggle. The cardboard sign hanging around her neck bounced happily as she leapt down to the sidewalk.

However, one look at the appointed target and Usagi was scrambling back up the wall again in a flash, shouting, "No, no, NO! You do it, Minako!"

Her friend tossed her blonde hair loftily out of the way, revealing a matching cardboard sign that read "Vanity." "I've already done my share, thank you very much," she replied airily, "and did so perfectly, if I may say so myself!"

"This is _your_ psychology project, not ours!" Makoto whined, batting agitatedly at her own sign—"Complaint."

"I—I…Usagi, you lucky girl!" Ami stammered, "Embarrassment" appropriately written all over her face (figuratively speaking, of course).

Rei, a.k.a. "Jealousy," pushed her struggling friend back down unceremoniously onto the sidewalk below, muttering, "Just do it already!"

At that remark, Usagi had to grin. Rei had been stuck "getting jealous" over an overly-flirtatious twelve-year old with enough acne to cover a checkerboard with. That assignment had been purely Usagi's work.

"Okay, okay!" she finally huffed, turning resignedly to face her victim with a fake smile plastered across her face.

There he was—Chiba Mamoru, jerk extraordinaire, here to make her life miserable. But oh, she held the cards today, and she had an ace up her sleeve…

"What are you doing, studying for your vocabulary tests?" he quipped as he came up, looking around at the cards hanging from each of the girls' necks. "Hate to be a killjoy, Odango, but making your flashcards bigger won't make you retain the information any better." He grinned infuriatingly.

Usagi took a deep breath to calm herself, then giggled almost madly. "Is that so?" she asked slyly, her eyes twinkling.

Mamoru frowned at her sign. "Mischief, huh?" His lips twitched slightly, as if he was suppressing a smirk. "So what do you plan to do with me, Mis—"

A roar of laughter erupted from the audience above the wall.

When Mamoru looked back down, he saw that a sign had been tagged to his shirt, identical to theirs. It read "Daring."

"What is it, my dashing, daring, darling knight?" Usagi flashed him an innocent smile, watching in satisfaction as the girls continued to laugh at his expense.

Of course, he couldn't very well confront her when he hadn't seen it happen. That would be admitting that she was quicker than him. So he decided to ignore it. Two could play at this game.

Unclenching his fists and allowing a matching smile to spread across his face, Mamoru replied sweetly, "Nothing, my princess! But look, your hair's messed up. Let me get that for you." And in what Usagi considered a bold move even for a man with the word "Daring" written across his chest, Mamoru walked straight up to her and did the unthinkable—he undid one of her odangoes.

Uttering a shriek of surprise, Usagi jumped back as her hair came tumbling down on one side over her shoulder. Mamoru's eyes twinkled so that anyone walking by would not have been able to tell which one was really "Mischief."

"You!" Usagi exclaimed, before clamping a hand over her mouth. Slowly, she forced the smile back onto her face. "You…"

"Me?" Mamoru asked innocently.

Usagi stared for a moment at the man in front of her, calculating. She had to do something. Something that would really unsettle him. And then it came to her.

She hadn't really meant to. She had run out of ideas and had clutched at the first even vaguely-connected one, and had acted on it.

She leaned up on tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.

Mamoru's eyes went wide at the contact.

Maybe the cardboard signs were enchanted. Maybe cardboard just made Mamoru kinky. Because suddenly, Mamoru did something equally consistent with his new personality—he pulled Usagi's head towards his own, and kissed her full on the lips.

She melted. Simply melted in his arms.

A few low whistles sounded as four stunned girls looked on at the couple, locked in a tight embrace and kissing the living daylights out of each other as if nobody else in the world existed.

Ami cleared her throat uncomfortably, but it was Minako who broke the silence.

"Hey, guys? That's not called Mischief anymore, that's called Lust."

All she got in response was a low, lust-filled moan.

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I hope you all liked it! Please review!

Ala


	22. Christmas

I hope you enjoy! I'm actually more in a time crunch getting out the Valentines-themed drabble (perfect timing! Yay!) and working on the challenge at Arias' Ink, but I still hope that you enjoy this one.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_22. Christmas _(Word Count: 559)

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The gnarly splotch of green dangled over their heads like a fisherman's bait. They both stared at it for a moment before bringing their gazes back down and, upon accidentally making eye contact with one another, immediately looked away in opposite directions, their cheeks flushed pink.

Mamoru cleared his throat self-consciously. "Do…do you want to, then?" His voice sounded dismally small against the looming silence.

"O-only if you do," Usagi managed, her lips quivering.

Both of them looked up, each meeting the others' wide-eyed gaze. Neither of them dared move…dared hope…

'Just do it, stupid!' Mamoru berated himself mentally, watching Usagi twirl one long pigtail around her finger listlessly.

'Kiss him, you idiot!' a voice urged in Usagi's mind.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, suddenly, as if a spell had been broken and all the awkwardness of the world converged on that solitary spot, they both did the only thing they could think to do: laugh.

"Wh-what a stupid tradition!" Mamoru croaked, throwing his head back in forced laughter that he didn't really feel. His eyes caught sight of the green plant hanging from the ceiling, glaring down at him accusingly. 'No, _you're_ stupid, Mamoru—stupid stupid stupid!'

"Silly. Ridiculous," Usagi agreed hollowly, laughing with him, tears of disappointment welling up in her eyes as she turned her head to face the opposite wall. 'He only thinks of you as a silly little girl, Usagi. Dummy!'

Silence settled like a suffocating blanket over the pair of them as they both nursed their own emotional wounds. Mamoru stared up defiantly at the small sprig of green. His one chance, and he was going to let it pass…All he had ever dreamed of, simply sweeping her up into his arms and kissing the living daylights out of her, all that wasted, gone…

It was now or never.

Mamoru turned on Usagi with a sudden fierce look of determination, took hold of her chin with a strong hand, and brought her eyes up to meet his.

"I believe in the meaning of Christmas, do you?" he demanded.

"I—what?"

"Christmas. Do you believe in the spirit of Christmas?"

"Y-yes…" she stammered. And that was all she ever got a chance to say.

Her eyes widened in surprise as Mamoru leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Soft, at first, then more urgently. And as if in a dream, she allowed herself to simply melt into his embrace, savoring the feel of his warm lips and his gentle touch as they kissed passionately underneath the fateful Christmas plant. Her warm breath against his, the intoxicating smell of her hair, the feel of his hand against her skin, the—

"Hey, guys?"

Usagi and Mamoru froze for a second, then sprang apart as if they had been electrified. They looked up, startled, to see Motoki, leaning casually against the door frame and eyeing the green bush hanging from the ceiling.

He grinned broadly. "Good idea. I wouldn't stand under the toxic mold, either. Sorry to interrupt, carry on!" Motoki gave a cheery wave and turned to leave, adding brightly over his shoulder, "Just thought you ought to know, though, that mistletoe isn't booger-green. For future reference, yeah?"

And he left the two of them standing, gazing up in wonder at the miracles that could be wrought by a simple Christmas mold.

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Ahh, okay, I've been a little preoccupied lately. Besides, it's not the Christmas season right now, so can't blame me for being out of tune? Let me know what you thought!

Ala


	23. Valentines

What are you doing sitting here reading this drabble?! Go out and get him, girl!

To all you wonderful people who peruse these nets on the single-most romantic day of the year, single or taken, dreaming or living it—I wish you all a very Happy Valentine's Day! And remember, I _love_ everyone who reviews, so if you can't seem to find that spark of amour this special day…review away, and you will find that you can still be happy, and loved…!

Hugs and kisses! Ala Verity

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_23. Valentines_ (Word Count: 764)

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Usagi walked in, her shaking legs barely supporting her as she made her way across the arcade.

'You can do this, Usagi!' she mentally berated herself as the dark-haired man sitting at the counter came into view. 'Just give it to him!'

The card in her hand trembled in her hands as she spotted him, bent over one of his textbooks as usual.

Mamoru looked up at her approach. "Hey, Odango!"

Usagi wrinkled her nose at him, frowning. "Don't call me that, Mamoru-baka!"

"You're one to talk," he countered easily. His eyes alighted on the paper in her hands, and he smirked. "What's that, Usagi, another failing report card?"

"It's not!" she exclaimed mutinously. Why did she think doing this would be a good idea anyway? "It's a valentine, you dummy!"

Mamoru's eyes darkened imperceptibly, but when he spoke, his tone was casual. "Oh? And who's the unlucky guy?"

'It's you, you stupid, wonderful man!' Usagi wanted to shout at him. Instead, she replied, licking her lips nervously, "Nobody _you'd_ care to know, jerk!"

Mamoru shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "Suit yourself, Odango," he said. "It was just a question, anyway." He turned back to his book.

Usagi had just decided to forget all about her plan and leave when she noticed something pink sticking out of Mamoru's textbook. She frowned. Pink was _definitely_ not one of Mamoru's typical preferences as far as color-coding was concerned, and he was absolutely _meticulous_ when it came to organization. Therefore, she could not imagine for the life of her what Mamoru kept a pink bookmark for.

She leaned forward to look, and her heart sank. It was a valentine. Somebody had beaten her to it. Some girl worthy enough of his heart to have her card kept as a cherished bookmark.

"Do you need something, Odango?" Mamoru asked with a raised eyebrow, turning to see her still peering over his shoulder.

Usagi cleared her throat, which suddenly felt very dry. "You got a valentine, Mamoru-baka," she mumbled.

Mamoru looked over at the heart-shaped card sitting innocently on top of the book. "Yeah, so I did." He looked up at her again. "What's it to you?"

"N-nothing!" she said hurriedly, feeling the tears of hurt welling up in her eyes. "It's nothing, okay?" She turned away quickly before he could see and made to leave. Before she could take another step, however, she felt a gentle pressure on her arm. He was pulling her back.

'Not now,' she thought desperately to herself, even as a small ray of hope pierced her dark thoughts. 'Not now, please…'

"Odango," Mamoru said softly from behind her, "Is that for me?"

Slowly, achingly slowly, Usagi forced herself to turn and face him again. She swallowed hard as his searching but unreadable gaze pierced her.

Rejection. Fear. Hatred. Humiliation. Loathing.

No, she had spent too much time thinking about this moment to turn back now. Taking in a deep breath, Usagi nodded.

She watched dismally as a small smile crept over Mamoru's lips. So he was going to laugh at her, tell her that she was a little lovesick girl. Well, at least he got one thing right—she was head over heels in love with him. She braced herself for his reaction.

To her surprise, however, she felt a hand closing warmly over her own.

"I can keep it, then?" Mamoru asked softly. He looked up at her through demure, azure eyes.

Usagi blinked, uncomprehending. "What?"

Mamoru tugged the card gently out of her hands and held it up next to his face with a modest smile. "This. I guess this means I can keep it, then?"

"I—You—I mean—" Usagi stammered, nodding dumbly all through her stuttering. Mamoru's smile grew into a grin, but his eyes remained soft.

"Good," he whispered, placing the card carefully on top of his book. "I was hoping you would say that."

And before she knew what was happening, Mamoru's arms had enveloped her, drawing her up close against his warm body.

"B-but I don't understand!" Usagi protested, her voice muffled against his chest. She could still see the unfamiliar pink peeking up at her from over his shoulder.

Mamoru drew back slightly, a small smile playing across his lips as he followed her gaze to the valentine sitting next to hers. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

"You're not really jealous of a _kindergartener_, are you, Odango?"

Usagi blushed.

"N-no way!" she exclaimed as Mamoru began to laugh.

"Whatever you say," he murmured, pulling her back into his arms. "Whatever you say, Odango—my Valentine."

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Happy Valentine's Day! To all of you girls out there, may you find your very own prince…


	24. Dragonfly

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_24. Dragonfly_ (Word Count: 855)

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Usagi let the book fall open onto the table, her gaze challenging as she looked up into the eyes of the surly upperclassman.

"There," she declared with an air of finality. "I told you it was true."

Mamoru glanced, half-amused, half-exasperated, at the fairytale in front of him. It was Sleeping Beauty. "Tell me, Odango," he replied smoothly, turning to face a pink-faced Usagi, "how does this prove anything other than that you have an overactive imagination?"

She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. "Dummy, it's written right here. In _words_. In a _book_. _You_ read books because they're real." Her hand hit the counter in vehement passion. "Well, it's real!"

"A _fairytale_," Mamoru countered, pointing at the illustration of a prince standing in front of a mighty dragon, his sword poised straight at its heart. "Fiction. You know, that stuff that's made up so that authors can make a living?"

"It is _not_ made up!" Usagi insisted, before a somewhat dreamy look crossed her face. She propped her chin onto her hand and sighed wistfully. "I'll ask Aurora how she did it."

"Did what?" Mamoru groaned, quickly realizing that he was fighting a losing battle.

"Found her prince," Usagi breathed, letting her eyes rove over the drawing. "How she wooed him into loving her without even lifting a finger. I mean, for goodness' sake, she's almost a hundred years old!"

"Madness," Mamoru said, shaking his head. "You want a nonexistent prince to come riding up on a white horse—"

"No," she interrupted suddenly, looking up as if she had only just noticed that he had been sitting beside her all along. "You're right. I wouldn't want that."

He shot her an incredulous look. "I am?"

"Yeah," she sighed, looking at the picture again and flipping a page listlessly. "I'd much rather have a prince riding up on a dragon."

Mamoru choked slightly on his coffee, which he had just brought up to his lips. "Ex-cuuse me?"

She tilted her face up towards his and gave him a very cheerful smile. "Yup. A prince on a dragon. How romantic would that be? I mean, any guy can get a horse—but a dragon…a magnificent creature that he could ride on and soar through the boundless skies with…" She nodded self-assuredly at her description. "Mhm! Any guy who can work with a creature like that would be worth knowing!"

Usagi gave a little giggle as Mamoru stared at her, his mouth hanging half open in amazement. Had she gone daft, or had she always been this crazy and he had just never noticed it?

She hit him lightly on the shoulder, adding wistfully as she picked up her bag to leave, "But a guy who could _catch_ me a dragon…now _that_ would be a man worth _loving_."

And she skipped cheerfully out of the arcade, leaving behind a surprised silence—and a very pensive Mamoru—in her wake.

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The sun was already high up in the bright afternoon sky when Tsukino Usagi came barreling out of her house, calling over her shoulder as she wrenched open the front door, "Bye, Mom! See you lat—ACK!"

Next thing Usagi knew, she was soaring through the air in a headlong plunge towards the sidewalk.

"Oweee!" she squealed, pushing herself up in a huff as soon as she had made landing, rebounding faster out of sheer practice than a giant bouncy ball. Rubbing her head with a grimace, she turned furiously to see a small parcel on her doorstep that had certainly not been there to trip her the night before.

"Well, don't you just make my day that much brighter," she muttered, stalking up to the box, which had remained miraculously intact through the attack. She picked it up and examined it curiously. It had not been elaborately wrapped, but whoever did it had obviously taken pains to be very neat and careful.

The card on top caught her eye. Written in unfamiliar, elegant cursive were the words "For Tsukino Usagi." She opened it curiously, wondering who in the world besides Umino would take the trouble of leaving a gift in front of her house.

_Usagi,_

_I wasn't able to catch you a dragon, but then again, I'm not sure what you would do with a dragon in your house anyway. Instead, I managed to capture the next best thing—a real dragon__ that will fly for you. Y__ou'll__ never have to be afraid that this one__ will burn you__, and you can keep it close until the day you find your real dragon_

She stared for a second at the card; then, with trembling hands, Usagi slowly opened the small box. Inside, poised as if perching alive on a branch, was a miniature crystal dragonfly, its blue and green body twinkling up at her in the dancing sunlight.

Usagi felt a small smile spread across her face, and quickly turned the card over to see if it was signed. Instead, her eyes alighted on a short addition on the back.

_P.S. In case you were wondering, yes—the prince does come with the package._


	25. Caramel Apple

I'm a bit delusional from my flu right now as it is, so give a girl a break, won't you? (Or, you could give a girl plenty of reviews to make her feel better! Ahah—I love you guys anyway!)

Update: I am currently at 21,000 words for the Valentine's Day Challenge at Arias' Ink—it's still not too late to join in the insane fun! I'm hoping to finish at around 50,000 words, since I started this project a little bit late, but do come check things out when all entries are submitted on March 1, 2008! Also, check out and come nominate or vote for your favorite stories!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_25. Caramel Apple _(Word Count: 574)

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Usagi showed up at the arcade on a bright Saturday morning looking, if possible, even cheerier than usual. She plopped down promptly at a counter stool, completely ignoring Mamoru, who was sitting next to her.

"Hi Motoki!" she chirped, pulling a green apple out of her pocket. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing fine, thanks, Usagi-chan!"

In response, Usagi smiled broadly, took a huge bite out of her crisp apple, and began smacking her lips loudly as she chewed her mouthful, staring pointedly in Mamoru's direction. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but said nothing.

"Since when did you like apples, Usagi?" Motoki asked curiously, watching her swallow ostentatiously. He had never seen her eat fruit _alone_ before.

Usagi shrugged, making a face. "I don't."

That was all the explanation she chose to give. She had just honed in for another bite when a clipped voice quipped from next to her, "Can you chew any louder, Odango, or was there still someone on the other side of the world who can't hear you?"

Usagi turned very slowly look Mamoru in the eye. Then she replied, pronouncing each word as clearly as she could through her gulp of apple, "Aren't you going to be in medical school soon? I thought they said that an apple a day would keep the doctor away."

Motoki tried not to laugh at the bemused look on Mamoru's face as Usagi skipped out the arcade door, swinging her apple freely in one hand and smacking her lips loudly. Nobody, however, noticed the furtive look Mamoru sent after the triumphant blonde, or how he left very soon after her departure with a certain air of determination.

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Usagi had just arrived at her front door when she spotted a small, brown package lying innocently on the porch. Curious, she laid down her schoolbag, sat down on the steps, and opened the box.

The smell of sweet caramel greeted her senses. And sitting in a little hole inside the package, propped up by a stick, rested a caramel apple.

She took it out with a frown, wondering if this was some weird sort of joke meant to tease her for having tried out as Snow White for the school play. Maybe she would drop dead if she ate it.

Usagi giggled. Or maybe a prince would come and rescue her.

Pulling the treat gingerly out of the box, she noticed a small slip of paper stuck to the bottom. She peeled it out carefully and scanned over the single sentence written on it in unfamiliar handwriting.

_If you want to keep the doctor away, you could at least do it in style._

She stared for a moment at the paper, back at the caramel apple in her hand, and again at the note. Just as realization began to dawn on her, a rustle in the bushes nearby made her look around in alarm.

A familiar young man walked up the sidewalk and paused at the bottom of her front steps, his hands casually in his pockets and a smile spread across his handsome features.

"I don't think your theory works very well," he commented lightly, his blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight. "I can't seem to stay away from you at all, Tsukino Usagi, apple or not."

And Usagi thought wryly to herself as Mamoru walked up the steps towards her, a smile playing across her own lips, 'Prince Charming it is.'

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Please review and tell me if you liked it!

Ala Verity


	26. Telephone

These ones are much more simplistic, and test out a new, more "drabble-like" style. Okay, so chances are that I'll never revert to this method, but please, please, please tell me what you think! This set is direly in need of feedback, since it's all so different, yeah?

:( My alpha, chewy, has gone AWOL. Chewy, stop being busy and having a life, and get your butt back here! XD

Oh, and don't forget to stop by and read MoonPrincessMagic's newest (song)fic, titled "Gomenasai." It's quite good, and I love that song!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_26. Telephone _

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_Drabble Number One _(Word Count: 310)

His palms sweat. His face burned. His pulse sped up. His feelings overflowed. He looked into her stunning azure eyes and felt himself drowning in them.

"You know, I—Usagi…Usagi-chan, may I call you that?"

She made a small noise that he assumed to be consent. He nodded, wiping his moist palms against the sides of his pants.

"I've known it for the longest time, I swear I have. Only I've been a fool enough to keep it in until now, only I _can't_ anymore, because—"

She began to interrupt, but he pushed forward hurriedly, in case he lost his nerve.

"—because I love you, Usagi-chan! I love you so much my heart could just explode!"

Silence. Her face betrayed no flicker of emotion, her steady gaze fixed on his.

He continued, gulping hard, "I know this seems like a big…big step from what both of us are used to. I mean, constant arguments and now…dating? I—I can understand if you don't see that in our future. But please, Usagi-chan…give me a chance?"

He waited with baited breath for her reply—and then a tinny old voice rang out from the other end,

"Gee, sonny, I'd be glad to, but if you want to get this Usagi girl, you sure as hell better stop calling _me_ about it."

_Click_. The line went dead.

Mamoru stared blankly into space for a second as the telephone slipped out of his hands. Then he slowly got up from his bed and walked without another word, somnambulant, into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

In his room, the telephone receiver dangled limply from its spiraled cord next to the picture of a certain blond angel, who continued to smile serenely up at the world, as if she alone would continue listening to the hollow beeping of the unhooked telephone.

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_Drabble Number Two_(Word Count: 318)

"I can't believe you _actually_ did this."

"What's not to believe?"

"This! This is ridiculous."

"If building us a private telephone line and winning the dare is the only way to keep you from calling me Mamoru-baka all the time, then of course I would do it."

"You're such a stalker, Mamoru-idiot."

"Calling me that is considered circumventing the conditions of the dare…_Odango_."

"I said I wouldn't call you Mamoru-_baka_, so it's not circumventing at all."

"I didn't know you knew what circumventing _meant_."

"I'm not _stupid_, you know!"

"Could've fooled me."

"ARGH!"

"…You sound angry. Are you angry, Odango?"

"No. You're mad, though. Absolutely _mad_ for doing this."

"You're right."

"I _am_?"

"Yes. I'm madly in love with you."

"…Really?" Hope.

"Do you really think I would do something this insane and risk getting shot by your father if I wasn't, Usagi-chan?"

"…H-hold on."

There was a slight clattering on the other end of the telephone, followed by silence.

Suddenly, the front door of the Tsukino residence flew open, and out tumbled Usagi, panting heavily from her sprint down from her bedroom to the front steps. She hurtled full-pelt straight for Mamoru, who was standing underneath the large tree in her front yard. Without a word, she launched herself straight into his arms, knocking the Styrofoam cup he was holding out of his hand and onto the lawn.

"I'm madly in love with you, too," she whispered, hugging him fiercely.

And as Mamoru wrapped his arms around the beautiful, young girl, his bright eyes followed the thin cord trailing up to her bedroom that had only seconds earlier been the channel through which traveled his unexpected revelation.

Two Styrofoam cups and a wire. That was all it took for him to finally confess. He pulled Usagi's warm body closer against his, reveling in the feel of her soothing touch.

Now why hadn't he thought of this before?

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Leave a review! Cheers, Ala


	27. Stained Glass

I'm absolutely drained, and I think it's starting to show. I was unusually dissatisfied with my work on the past two drabbles, and I sincerely felt like they weren't up to par—but I also just had to get something out and on the net to keep myself from drowning in this little sinkhole I've built for myself. But thank you so much as always for your supportive comments! I always love hearing from you all, and you guys honestly make my day with your sincere and heartfelt comments. Thank you so much! I need you more than ever.

I have, on a much, much, MUCH brighter note, just finished the Aria's Ink challenge! I am so happy, I could just burst with joy. Its word count officially totals at a whopping 61,000 words over a two-week interval. Needless to say, I have been busting my butt over this story, and while I hardly think that the work I put out is up to the usual standards, it's something I am incredibly pleased with for my very first challenge and chaptered-story experience. It will be undergoing massive revisions over the next few _months_, and will definitely be fleshed out and cut down to size, as is deemed necessary. I encourage you all to go check it out at Aria's Ink—it's called "Down the Rabbit Hole (And Back Again)," and revolves, as the title implies, around Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_. I would also recommend looking at all of the challenge works that have been submitted for this fairytale challenge—there will be some amazing stuff put out there! Drop me a note and definitely, please please please let me know what you think!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_27. Stained Glass_

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_Drabble Number One_ (Word Count: 327)

It looked remarkably like him, that was for sure.

She could trace the faint outline of his chiseled jaw, follow the contours of the face she had memorized, even find an uncanny resemblance in the smudges on the glass to his crystal-clear blue eyes.

The quirky smile that always sent delightful shivers down her spine was right there, for her and her alone. Usagi ran a finger lightly across the stain, reveling in the thought that it was almost like touching his face for real. The cool surface of the glass reminded her just how pleasurable it would be, if she got the chance to touch him, just feel his warm skin pressed against hers for even a moment.

There was no denying just how much it looked like him. Or maybe it was wishful thinking…

"Usagi-chan?"

"Hmm?"

"Usagi-chan, you've been fingering that empty glass for the past half-hour." She looked up, startled, to see Motoki peering curiously into her face. He smiled and asked in a teasing voice, "Now tell me, why in the world have you suddenly grown so fond of my glass, hm?"

Usagi could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, and she pushed the glass hastily away from her across the counter. "Nothing," she mumbled, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Your glass is stained, that's all."

She didn't look up to see Motoki's bemused glance, with an eyebrow quirked all-too knowingly in her direction. She simply sighed and propped her chin onto her hand, looking wistfully out the arcade window.

The clouds in the bright summer sky, the glass stain, the mud puddle outside of her school gates—everything seemed to tie back to him. She couldn't escape, no matter how hard she tried. Fate was out to get her, and with a vengeance.

She shrugged, a small smile spreading across her lips as she watched a familiar-looking young man walk into the arcade. Oh well. Couldn't say she didn't try.

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_Drabble Number Two_ (Word Count: 456)

There. There it was.

Usagi slammed her milkshake down suddenly on the table, sending chocolate droplets flying every which way.

"Hey, guys!"

Rei wiped a glob from her hair with a scowl. "What do you want, geez, sprinkler system?"

Usagi waved her friend aside airily, accidentally fanning chocolate goo that had dripped all over her hands into their faces. "Oops, sorry! I _bet_," she added in a conspiratorial whisper, pressing her finger against the arcade window next to her, "that I could stare at this stain on the glass without moving for the next hour."

Makoto laughed. "Man, girl, you couldn't sit still that long if we offered you ten triple-chocolate fudge sundaes for it."

"And for what purpose exactly," Ami added with a puzzled frown, "would we want to subject you to that sort of behavior for?"

"To…to see me do it?" Usagi asked with a curiously pleading look at her friend.

Rei raised a skeptical eyebrow at her friend. "And what the world would make you suddenly _want_ to do this? Fallen madly in love with a stain because you can't get a guy?"

All the girls chortled in unison, leaving Usagi to flush pink, looking utterly crestfallen. She turned to stare at the glass once more with a wistful look, not noticing as Minako's gaze followed her own. A look of dawning realization crossed the girl's face.

"Come on guys," Minako cut in amidst the giggles, standing up abruptly. Her friends, including Usagi, looked around in surprise. "Let's go."

"Wh-at?" Rei protested. "But where are we—"

"Anywh—I mean, to…the counter!" Minako began dragging each of the girls up forcefully by the arm (by the hair in a particularly stubborn Rei's case). Then, aving cheerfully behind her, Minako chirped as she towed her chattel away, "It's ten sundaes for each of us if you can't do it! We'll be back in an hour!"

Usagi could only nod dumbly as she watched her kicking and groaning friends disappear to the other side of the arcade. Then, remembering suddenly that she would only have an hour and that precious time was already ticking by, she turned around quickly and pressed her nose against the glass, right up against the stain.

There it was. The familiar ugly green jacket, nestled comfortably against a bench directly opposite her spot at the window. And sitting next to it, just arrived for his outdoor afternoon read, was none other than Chiba Mamoru.

She sighed longingly, not noticing the furtive glances being sent her way by a certain four girls seated at the counter.

An hour would be no time at all. At least she would have ten chocolate-fudge to drown her sorrows in when the time was up.

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It's good to be back (from a…week-long hiatus )! I hope you'll all let me know what you thought!

Much love, Ala Verity


	28. Same Old Song and Dance

Wow! It's been a while since I've updated! I'm super-glad to be back on the scene—as you all might or might not know, I'm currently working on a new fic tentatively called "Notebooks, Not Love Notes," a Usagi-Mamoru first season AU. Check out my LJ for more details, and definitely check out the story when it's posted! My goal is to get the first chapter out within the next month or two. That being said, updates for drabbles might be affected, depending on my writing mood. But I will definitely keep going with these, and hopefully continue to hear all of your wonderful critiques and comments!

I have added the original additional ending for the first drabble, which I wasn't satisfied with but I thought was a fun idea. Let me know what you thought!

Ala

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_28. Same Old Song and Dance_

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_Drabble Number One _(Word Count: 699)

"May I have this dance, princess? It may be our last."

"You know I could never say 'no.'" She took the young man's hand and he led her onto the dance floor, among the whirling and spinning masses of the royal Imperial court. But then the music washed over them like a warm summer night's breeze, and they lost themselves in one another's gazes, only the two of them sharing a final dance together.

They stayed there long after everyone else had left, wrapped up in a tight embrace, her face pressed against his shoulder, his against her golden hair…both of them wishing the moment would last them beyond this lifetime.

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The music from the speakers on stage pounded heavy pulses against their eardrums, blasting a cacophony of what sounded to Mamoru's throbbing eardrums like grinding chainsaws, screeching violins, and dying seagulls, all mixed in an old screechy blender.

"Can't they play something more…aesthetically pleasing!" Mamoru shouted to Motoki over the din.

"I think it's almost over—" Motoki yelled back over Reika's head.

As if on cue, the roaring noise suddenly stopped, and the strains of a soft melody began to waft from the stage.

"Never mind," Mamoru muttered under his breath, fidgeting uncomfortably as everyone around him began drifting off in couples. "I think I'd rather have the massacre music back." By the time the crowd had finished pairing off like animals from Noah's ark, the only one left standing alone was him.

Him, and the blonde standing across from him.

"Well, don't just stand there looking stupid," he finally spat out, glowering at the girl with every ounce of dislike that he could muster for that curve-hugging, flowing pearl-tinted dress and those long, ravishing legs. He didn't even want to get started on the glowing cerulean of her eyes, or the generous cut of her neckline…

"I'm not the bachelor _college_ student here," Usagi bit back, tossing her head defiantly so that the gossamer, silky—no, it only _looked_ silky—strands of golden hair slid over like liquid-air over her bare shoulders. He wondered what it would actually feel like under his touch…probably like heaven made into substance.

Mamoru was just about to open his mouth to comment snidely on how in the world a freshman in high school had even found her way into a university dance, and was ready to point her to the kiddy center next door, when he caught sight of a gaggle of junior-high girls hovering and giggling a short distance away, stealing furtive glances that were all too knowing his way.

His rebuke changed direction mid-word.

"Ye—well, dammit, neither am I." And in one swift movement, Mamoru had closed the distance between the two of them and caught her surprisingly warm hand in his own.

"_What are you_—?"

"Contemplating suicide," Mamoru muttered, pulling Usagi in closer with a firm hand. The moment he buried his face in her hair, the disappointed faces of the teeny-boppers disappeared from view, and his senses reveled in the faint scent of strawberries. Hmm. That didn't feel too bad. Not too bad at all.

"What does…'counter-plate' mean?" Usagi mumbled into his chest from where her head was nestled comfortably. She turned her face up to his. "Does it have anything to do with foo—"

"No food," Mamoru murmured, nudging her head back down again with his chin, which rested against a bed of dazzling silken hair. It _was_ like touching something heaven-made. "Is food all you can ever think about?"

"It is not!" she protested, her voice muffled. The rumble of his chest when he spoke was a delicious sensation against her pressed cheek. "You really suck sometimes, did you know that, Mamo…Mamoru-baka?"

"No better for you, Odango."

"I wish you would stop calling me that."

"I wish you would stop brushing your head against my neck so that I could concentrate on dancing correctly."

"What?"

"Nothing."

And although neither of them would acknowledge it, as the strains of a familiar melody washed over the couple once more, there was something about this song and dance that left both of them feeling as if the moment had come from another lifetime.

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_Original Additional Ending _

"Mamoru?" 

"Hm?" 

"The music's stopped." 

"Oh." 

Neither of them moved. 

"That means the dance is over." 

"…Yeah, I guess it does." 

"Then why are we still standing here?" 

Mamoru had just opened his mouth—to say what, he wasn't sure—when a chipper voice broke in that made both of them look around. 

"So how's the fabric, Mamoru? Passable?" 

Motoki was standing next to them with a broad grin written across his entire face. 

"Wh-what do you mean?" 

Motoki chortled and turned on his heel, winking as he went to join Reika near the exit. "Nothing! Your hands were moving around so much on the back of Usagi's dress, I just figured you were testing for the fabric's quality." 

He strolled away with a bounce in his step, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. After a moment, Mamoru turned slowly to face Usagi with wide, horrified eyes, like a kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

Finally, Usagi cleared her throat delicately, trying to keep her face straight. 

"Erm—so…_was_ it passable?" 

Mamoru could only nod bemusedly, his cheeks flushing pink, as a twinkle lit up Usagi's eyes. 

"Okay, good, took you long enough to notice," she chirped, spinning around to follow Motoki out. "And here I thought you were just being a creep trying to feel me up! Silly me." 

He couldn't help it. A grin broke out across his features as she turned to leave. A creep, huh? He shook his head. 

He could deal with that. 

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_Drabble Number 2_ (Word Count: 385)

"I don't like this movie."

"But you picked it!"

"But it's always the same old song and dance!" Usagi complained, gesturing irritably at the dancing couple on the television screen. "They always dance to the same music, then he murmurs a few sweet words in her ear, and then they kiss! The story never changes!"

"You wanted to watch it, Odango," Mamoru groaned.

"I can't believe I paid good money to see this!"

"You didn't pay, we're watching it on Motoki's television for free."

"Okay, but still!" Usagi insisted, shooting him a baleful glare. "I had to endure _you_ all this time, so I should at least be rewarded!"

"With what, a makeover? Because let me tell you, you need it—"

"The advertisement," Usagi said loudly, pretending not to hear Mamoru's slight, "said that this would be a unique romance story!"

Mamoru scoffed. "Yeah, about as unique as _you_, which isn't very unique at all."

"Shh!" Motoki began, leaning forward in his seat the better to hear the dialogue over his bickering friends. They both ignored him.

"You're—you're such a jerk, Mamoru-baka!" Usagi shouted, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Fine by me, little girl."

"Dummy!"

"Stupid."

"Idiot!"

"Dunce."

"Dum—AGH! That's it, I'm _out_ of here!" And grabbing her bags with a frustrated huff, swiping angrily at her eyes with her sleeve all the while, Usagi stood up and stalked out of the arcade, her blonde pigtails swinging agitatedly behind her.

Motoki looked up and sighed, pausing the movie with his remote. "Mamoru, do you really have to be so harsh on her all the time? She was just trying to make conversation."

Mamoru shrugged, looking unconcerned. "She asked for it, going on and whining the way she does all the time."

Still, Motoki didn't miss the soft sigh that Mamoru gave as he turned to look wistfully out the window after Usagi's quickly retreating figure.

It was always the same quarrel, the same hurt. No sweet words whispered in her ear, no tender kiss to wash away the pain with.

And he couldn't help but wonder, as he watched her whip around the corner and out of sight, if things would ever change, or if they would be stuck dancing to this same miserable tune for the rest of their lives.

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Leave me a note and tell me what you thought! --Ala


	29. Buried Treasure

I've added a splash of _lime_ to this one, so I'm rating it PG-13 just to be safe. I took the liberty of adding a little bit of spice to Mamoru's…well, masculine instincts, with a little help from Usagi. And anyway, it's just so much fun to tease him!

On a side note...oh my gosh! What's happened to all of my dividing lines?! Sadness...All gone...:sob: (I had to add them in manually!)

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_29. Buried Treasure _(Word Count: 981)

* * *

"This has got to be the stupidest excuse for an arcade-sponsored game day I have ever heard of."

"Well, good! So indulge me on this stupidest of days."

These were the words that Motoki and Mamoru had exchanged before the blond whisked his friend off to search for the prized buried treasure.

"Perfectly harebrained scheme…" Mamoru muttered under his breath as he straightened the crinkled paper in his hands, the latest of clues he had found in this scavenger hunt. Trudging through the hot sand in bare feet, he squinted at the tiny handwriting scrawled across the paper, trying to make out what it said.

He was so busy reading that he didn't see the girl huddled up over a mound of sand in front of him.

"Oomph!"

His foot made contact with her back, and he went flying spectacularly into the sand.

"Eep!"

"Ouch!"

"Mamoru-baka?"

"Oy…Odango?" Mamoru groaned, rubbing his head and looking up. His gaze was met with a pair of wide, curious eyes staring back at him.

"Is it just me dreaming, or did Chiba Mamoru just fall for me?" she quipped, her sea-blue eyes twinkling.

"You're dreaming," he muttered, shaking the sand out of his hair. Usagi laughed and turned back to her digging.

"Eek! I found it!" she shrieked suddenly, her hands shoveling out sand from a particular spot with more vigor than a dog on crack. Mamoru's eyes alighted on a discarded treasure map lying abandoned a few yards away, and he looked up just in time to see Usagi holding something up triumphantly in front of his face.

"Look! I found the treasure!"

Mamoru's first reaction was to blink. So he blinked. He blinked a second time. Then his eyes grew impossibly large as his mind finally registered the sight of the translucent piece of latex dangling in front of his nose.

His hand shot out instantly to snatch it out of her undefiled fingers. Unfortunately, Tsukino Usagi had ideas of her own.

"What _is_ it?" she asked, fingering the elastic material (Mamoru flying hand missed by a mile as she held the latex up to the sunlight for examination). "Is it a balloon?"

And to Mamoru's eternal horror (although he swore he felt a surge of desire coursing through his body as she did it, which he quickly suppressed), she put the rubber to her lips—and blew.

_PTHHHBBB!_

"It's—not—_working_!" she puffed with exertion, wiping saliva from the rim of the little piece and sweat from her forehead. "This is one hard blowing job!"

Mamoru choked and pounded his chest forcefully.

"O-Odango, do you _know_ what you're—"

The words on his lips died a sudden death, however, as he caught sight of the glint in her eyes that could only mean one thing.

Trouble.

"Oh, Mamoru…" Usagi began in a singsong voice, crawling towards him through the sand with her treasure clutched tightly in hand. He gulped and tried to ignore the mixed signals that his brain was sending all through his body as he watched her, her bare skin gleaming under the dazzling sunlight.

"Wh-what?" he croaked.

"You know what this is…don't you?"

Boy, did he ever! And if she didn't stop looking at him like that, he was thinking that he would need to make use of it very soon…

"N-no…"

Mamoru licked his lips nervously. He definitely needed to remember to wear looser jeans to the beach. But was it his fault she had decided to don such a revealing bikini for the occasion?

"Oh?" Usagi smiled (was that seduction he saw in her eyes?!). "Well, then, you wouldn't object if I used it like…_this_?"

And without further warning, she stretched the latex as far as it would go…and snapped it onto Mamoru's foot.

SNAP!

"Yeowch! _Odango!_"

"Geez, you grouch," Usagi grumbled, eyeing the result with a slightly amused pout. "Why is your foot so BIG?"

They both looked down at the piece of rubber, which was stretched tightly over Mamoru's big toe.

Mamoru could feel the heat rush to his face, although he had the strangest feeling that it had not so much to do with the sun, as with what was going on in front of him…

"Wow. Your foot…is _humongous_, Mamoru-baka. There's no way that tiny piece of plastic would ever fit it!"

Usagi gave a shout of laughter and shuffled away on her hands and knees just as Motoki sidled up next to him. Mamoru's face had turned a bright beet red.

"Sunburned already, Mamoru?" Motoki asked with a raised eyebrow. "You really should put on some of that sunscreen I brought. But I thought you never—never got…"

His eyes fell on the yellow latex fit snugly on his friend's toe. Motoki choked, looking from Usagi, who was happily immersed in building a sand castle, and back up at a fiercely blushing Mamoru.

"Er…" Stifled laughter. "Do I want to—?"

"No."

Yanking the offending rubber off of his foot and throwing it back into the hole, Mamoru piled up sand on top of it until an enormous dune sat in the middle of the otherwise flat expanse of beach.

"Hey, Mamoru?"

"_What?_"

Motoki grinned. "Want me to tell Usagi what she _really_ uncovered today? Some hidden feelings, perhaps? Or maybe some eroti—"

"You know, I hate treasure hunting almost as much I hate you right now, Motoki," Mamoru snapped, swiping a handful of sand at Motoki's legs as his friend laughed. Then he sat down irritably on top of the mound to brood, propping his chin on his hand as he watched Usagi build her castle, its turrets lopsided and crumbling but standing tall nevertheless.

Yes, he thought to himself as he sat pensively on top of the sand dune, still sweating slightly from the close encounter—it was definitely better to keep _this_ little treasure buried, and buried deep.

* * *

And you thought Mamoru was always such a gentleman… ;)

...And to put an end to the concerns, _no_, it was not used. Seriously, guys!! I hadn't even thought of that until you brought it up! :makes face:

Sexual innuendo isn't usually my style, but if you're reading this, let me know what you thought of it!

Bunches of love, Ala


	30. Business Card

Holy cow! It's been more than a month since I last updated!

_Kowtows profusely_

It HAS been a while, hasn't it? –Nervous laughter- Anybody glad to see that I haven't gone MIA? Nobody here has spears or other sharp objects, right?

Okay, okay, I admit it! This drabble has been way overdue. If it helps, I've felt just as bad not being able to post anything for such a long time. Forgive the poor, still-sick, work-ridden girl! I promise that if you stab me now, I won't be able to finish the rest of these drabbles o.o So please spare me.

XD In other news, though, the next one should be coming in a more timely fashion, as should the rest. And YES, this lack of promptness is in part due to my hard, hard work on "Notebooks!" So be glad, okay? I'm working hard on getting more writing out. YOSH!! And enjoy!

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_30. Business Card_ (Word Count: 562)

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"What is this, Usagi-chan?" Motoki asked, looking down curiously at the slip of paper in his hand.

"Personalized business cards!" the blonde chirped happily, thrusting a pink piece of paper into Makoto's hand. "It's part of a project for our psychology class."

"Does this project involve scaring people away with your voodoo cards?"

Usagi stuck her tongue out at the man sitting on the stool a few seats away. "Yes, I made one for you too, baka," she pouted, sliding a rectangular slip of paper across the counter to him before busying herself with scuffing the toe of her shoe against Motoki's squeaky-clean floor. She watched him discreetly from under her lowered lashes.

"Hey, why does mine say 'Excellent at subduing pyros?'" Rei complained from somewhere along the counter, sending the girls around her into a fit of giggles.

"Ooh, thanks, for offering your services as test-taster!" Makoto laughed, looking up from her own card. "Only you happen to think _everything_ I make is good, so it doesn't help much, Odango!"

"That's because it is!"

Makoto flushed with pleasure.

One by one, the girls and Motoki made their various observations about the aid offered by Usagi in her personalized business cards, until only one person was left.

"Mamoru-baka? What is it?" Usagi asked, sidling cautiously over to him to peer over his shoulder at the paper in his hand. It read:

Tsukino Usagi

15 years old, student

Can bug certain young men like none other when provoked

"Hellooooo! Earth to jerkwad! Say something!"

"Odango?"

"Hmm?"

"Hugging," he said very quietly, turning and standing up so suddenly that Usagi took a hasty step backwards away from him, "is spelled with an 'h,' not a 'b.'"

"H-huh?" she squeaked, looking quickly from Mamoru's face to his arms, before wrenching her eyes back up to meet his gaze again. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Mamoru leaned in achingly slowly, but Usagi's legs seemed to have lost all ability to function properly. She could not move away from him.

"What I mean," he whispered, now so close to her that his bangs tickled her forehead, too, "is that if you want to hug certain young man like none other, just say so next time, got it?"

"I—I don't…"

Eyes darted back and forth. Arms. Eyes. Lips. Face. Arms.

"That is…I…" Her voice died. Arms for hugging.

A small smile spread across Mamoru's lips as he followed her wandering gaze.

"Hugging," he said, as sternly as if teaching an obstinate first-grader. "H-u-g-g-i-n-g. Not 'b.'"

Usagi nodded dumbly.

"Good," he murmured, straightening up. "I'll expect you to remember that for next time, then. Jaa, Odango."

He turned and walked towards the exit with his hands in his pocket, strolling away with that leisurely walk that Usagi had long ago memorized. She heard his last words mix with the _swish_ of the opening doors as he crossed into the warm spring afternoon outside.

"It doesn't take a psychology class for me to know what's going on in that head of yours, Odango."

A silly grin crept up on her face as she watched him round a corner and out of sight. Then, as if a sudden realization had struck her, she whipped a notepad out of her pocket and she scribbled down two words next to the one already written there on a fresh, clean page.

_Soul-mates? Most definitely._

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Did you enjoy it? Hate it? Love it? Let me know! And yes, I am SO looking forward to hearing from y'all after my little hiatus Expect more of me now, though, for better or for worse!


	31. Weapon

I had lots of fun writing this one (instead of doing work, of course), so read it and let me know what you thought! It's a little bit different, and definitely longer, but should be fun nonetheless.

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_31. Weapon_ (Word Count: 1568)

* * *

Mamoru stared at the enormous, violently pink sign blaring at him from what had previously been glass front. Written in big, bold red lettering were the glaring words:

"NO WEAPONS ALLOWED"

And underneath, in what looked like child's scrawl: "No exceptions."

Mamoru took a deep breath, located the automatic doors from under the blanket of blind-me pink, and stepped into the cool arcade.

The first thing he noticed was the strange absence of smiles from the customers' faces. The arcade usually served as a sanctuary for teens seeking to escape the banality of schoolwork or their parents' constant nagging, but today the hum of the machines was accompanied only by low murmurs and furtively cast glances. The front windows, covered entirely by the banner, let in no light, no sign that a hot August day existed beyond this four-wall air-conditioned cell.

Mamoru wound his way to his usual seat and sat down, drumming his fingers against the counter as he waited for Motoki to emerge from the back room. As he sat there, bored, his eyes wandered to the utensils set neatly next to his hand. On top of a pink paper napkin—the same brilliant shade as the sign outside—laid a plastic spork.

"Ah, sorry for making you w—oh, hey Mamoru!" Motoki called, carrying a large box in his arms as he came out of the storage room. "How're you doing, man?"

"Better than you, evidently," Mamoru replied, holding up the spork for inspection. "Need a hand with those dishes?"

Motoki dropped the box lightly on the counter and turned to face him. "Huh?"

"Your dishwasher. It's broken, right?"

"Oh!" Motoki shook his head. "Er…not quite."

"And I meant to ask—" Mamoru raised his eyebrow at the conspicuously discolored napkin in his hand. "That sign outside, and this décor…what are you doing with something as hideous as—"

"SHHH! Don't! She'll hear y—"

"Ohhh, _Motoki_!"

Motoki's head shot up, and Mamoru saw him hastily plaster a smile on his face. It was not unlike the look he got whenever he did something wrong and knew that trouble with Reika was fast approaching. "U-Usagi-chan! You're back!"

"Yup! So did you get the boxes of sporks and environment-safe napkins I left for you?"

"Uh…Yeah!" Motoki cast a sidelong glance at Mamoru, the look in his eyes pleading. "I—I don't know about this, Usagi-chan—"

Her voice instantly turned coy and curious, deadlier than even her piercing wail of doom. "What do you mean, 'you don't know?' Don't know about _what_, Motoki?"

"H-Hang on, I only meant—you know, the customers are complaining that they can't cut the French toast without knives, you see, and that's our most popular…popular dish…"

Mamoru could practically see his best friend shrinking under Usagi's unrelenting stare.

"A-and…it's just…the sunlight…sign…gone…" The words died a premature death, and Motoki turned away meekly, whimpering as he shuffled back into the back room (doubtless to retrieve some more boxes filled with luridly-colored plastic goods), "Darkness…forever…"

Mamoru snorted and turned in his seat to face Usagi.

"Did the witch hunt not catch up to you, Odango, or do you only save your black magic for special occasions? You know Motoki can't compete with your forces of evil."

Any trace of remaining coyness vanished from her voice, to be replaced with marked irritability. "Are you _blind_, baka?"

Mamoru blinked. Was it just him, or did the conversation just take a running leap off a nearby cliff? "No…" he said slowly, feeling through the dark for words that seemed to fit her indecipherable remark, "But taking a look at you might do it."

"Ooh, that is IT!" Usagi shouted—and without further explanation, she grabbed Mamoru's wrist and marched towards the arcade exit, dragging him along with unexpected force for such a tiny girl.

"H-hey! You're going to rip my arm off, Odango!"

Usagi only pulled harder.

"There!" she said once they had made it back outside, under the searing heat of the sun high above their heads. "There! Read that!"

"Read what?" Mamoru whirled on Usagi, towering over the impudent blonde. "Like I could have _not_ read that ugly piece of junk on the way in!"

"Then you are either illiterate, or you must be thicker-headed than I thought, because it says no weapons, you idiot!"

He blinked. "Who's bringing weapons?"

"You! Every—single—day—" She poked him hard in the chest with every word. "You and your _stupid_ sharpened tongue and your dumb insults and your—your awful hurtful words! You come in here every day just dying to pick on me and make me feel like even more of a nothing than I already am, and I—am—SICK of it! If those aren't weapons, I don't know what are, because they _hurt_!"

She was breathing so hard, looking up so fiercely at him with those blue eyes that nevertheless glittered like twin sapphires under the sunlight, that Mamoru felt his heart snag. Was it possible to do all that when he wasn't even aware that he was doing it? She was fun to make fun of. He liked seeing her get angry, the way the color rose to her already-flushed cheeks and her hands clenched into tiny little balls. She was cute when she was mad. Even now, staring at that defiant face made his stomach perform flips that would have made an acrobat dizzy. But it was supposed to be a game. It was supposed to be fun for her to poke fun back at him, too.

"And you—you jerk, you stay out here until you put those weapons away!"

Mamoru watched her stalk back into the arcade, blond pigtails swishing behind her. He looked back up at the pink sign still glaring accusingly at him, the words "NO WEAPONS ALLOWED" boring into his eyes like a drill. The longer he stared, the clearer the solution seemed to become, until it was so easy, so simple that he wondered why there had been any question about it before.

He turned and marched back towards the entrance.

Usagi looked up as the automatic glass doors slid open once again, letting in a warm waft of air from outside. The tall, shadowed figure did not hesitate as it weaved its way up between the sullen-faced customers, around the tables set with little matching plastic sporks and napkins with bunny prints on them. He walked all the way until he reached the girl standing in front of the counter, alone, watching him.

When he finally came to a halt in front of her, they regarded each other in silence, the one holding a handful of bright orange buttons with the words "Stop Violence!" emblazoned on them, the other a too-tall upperclassman with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Weapons all gone," he whispered, after a tentative silence.

He could feel her eyes searching his for some telltale sign of jest. Evidently she found none, because she tilted her face up to meet his gaze and asked quietly, "Are you sure?"

"I even checked the guy behind me, that's how sure I am."

He could see the small smile creeping across her lips as she nodded. "Good."

"Good."

"So…what do we do now, now that you're weapon-free?"

Even in the dimness of the arcade, Usagi could make out a faint twinkle in his strikingly blue eyes as he said, "Well, I was thinking that the first thing to do would be to repair the damage done. You know, start with the wounds."

"And?"

He smiled. "And I think the best way to do that would be to start with a reparation sundae. What about you?"

One of the buttons dropped from her hand and clattered mutely on the violet rug that said "PEACE." Neither of them bent down to pick it up.

"I-I'd like that."

"Good," Mamoru said, taking a seat to wait for Motoki to come back and indicating that Usagi should do the same. He picked up a spork and held it up teasingly in front of her nose. "I was afraid I wouldn't get a chance to use one of these."

"Oh, are you getting a sundae too?"

"No. I was thinking I'd eat some of yours."

Usagi gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing noiselessly. "No," she said firmly when she found her voice again.

"Why not? It'll be—"

"I _said_, 'NO.'"

Mamoru grinned. "Oh come on, Oda—Usagi, now that we've made up, don't you want to be the sweethearts of Tokyo together?"

"Wai—_What?_ NO! EW, no no no no no no no! Ick! That's disgusting!"

"Mamoru and Usagi—"

"No! _No!_ NO!"

"Sitting in a tree-"

"I SAID 'NO!'"

"K-i-s-s—"

"You are so GROSS—"

"—i-n-g! First comes the loooove—"

"And there they go again," Motoki muttered as he sidled out of the storeroom with a stack of boxes piled high in his arms.

"—I can't believe—"

"—then comes the marriage—"

"—I ever—"

"—Then comes—"

"—_wanted to be friends with YOU_!"

"—_the baby in the baby carriage_!"

"ARGH! MAMORU-BAKA! I HATE YOU!"

And through the din that all of Tokyo was now listening to, the people could barely make out the exasperated question, muffled behind a stack of pink-spork boxes, "You guys royally _suck_ for business, did you know that?"

* * *

So what did you think? NO, that is _not_ a rhetorical question! So come answer it now!

And yes, "Notebooks" is still being worked on…I see the light at the end of the chapter!

Hugs to those who drop me a note :)


	32. Rain at Midnight

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_32. Rain at Midnight_ (Word Count: 1068)

* * *

Usagi stood with her head tilted back towards the night sky, whose velvety cover glittered with the thousands of twinkling jewels adorning its effusive fabric. In the distance, the minute hand of a clock tower crept slowly upward, winding its way closer to the shorter hand which already stood tall and erect at the northernmost point of the clock face, stretching its invisible fingers into the same boundless heavens that one pair of blue eyes on the ground seemed mesmerized by.

The girl stood unblinking, unmoving on her spot in the middle of the grassy lawn as if waiting for the sky to fall in on her. The minutes passed in silent anticipation, the night afraid to disturb the reverie cast upon its lone audience.

The sudden sound of approaching footsteps from behind made her stiffen slightly, but she did not turn to face it, even when a voice—at first alarmed, then quietly puzzled—broke through the still night air.

"Odango…Odango, is that you?"

Odango. She smiled slightly as the shrouded figure rounded in front of her to face her, feeling confident of the darkness' willingness to keep her furtive expression a secret from her companion.

"Odango?" She felt him take a step closer and wondered how he had even spotted her from the road in the first place. Except for the glow of the stars, no other light offered relief from the unrelenting dark. "What are you doing out here at this time of night? It's nearly midnight."

"I'm waiting."

"For what? A werewolf to come out and attack you? Come on, you need to go home. It's late."

"I'm waiting for the rain to come."

She could imagine him raising his eyebrow to that familiar perfect arch, even though it was too dark in reality to make out even the barest outline of his face that she had nonetheless memorized. "Unless this rain is supposed to bring along with it a shower of extraterrestrial life forms that only emerge when another dimension to the Twilight Zone opens at midnight, I don't see why you can't just pick a reasonable hour to be waiting for the rain like everyone else, Odango."

Usagi laughed and turned to face the spot where she imagined his voice to be issuing from, even though its warmth seemed to envelop her completely. "The weatherman said it was supposed to rain tomorrow, and in less than one minute it'll be tomorrow. I want to be the first person in the world to dance in the rain when it comes."

As if on command, the steady hum of crickets' song was instantly joined by the heavy, reverberating tolling of the distant clock tower, which belted forth the melody of a new day. A nearby streetlamp sputtered noisily to life, flickering on and off until it finally settled on a tired shade of hazy yellow. The light threw Usagi's features sharply into relief, and Mamoru had to blink more than once to make sure that his eyes had adjusted correctly.

She was smiling.

Which, of course, made no sense whatsoever. For a girl who would risk the perils of prowling animals and stalking shadows of twilight just to receive the first showers of a new day, a girl who still slept with her nightlight on at night—she shouldn't look so happy…should she?

"Er, Odango—" Mamoru said, not sure if he should point it out at all, "It's midnight."

"Yup."

"And it's not raining."

She only smiled.

"And by the look of the skies, it doesn't look like it's going to rain anytime soon."

"Great, isn't it?" She finally turned to face him, and he was taken aback to see her eyes bright. "This way I can see the stars."

"O-kay…you've officially lost me, Odango." He shook his head, amazed. "What happened to all the anticipation about dancing in the rain?"

It was Usagi's turn to shake her head, a small smile playing about her lips. "It's not about the rain, really. I just wanted to be the first to do something today, to appreciate all this." She held her arms out and did a small twirl that Mamoru was sure would have sent her toppling over faster than the Titanic at any other time of day. "You see? I am! I was just the first one to dance in the starlight today."

"You know, that's so crazy, Odango, it almost makes sense."

"Doesn't it?" She laughed, then suddenly put her hands on her hips and took a step back, looking impressed.

Mamoru looked around him uneasily. "Wh-what?"

"Nothing. I just never thought _you_, of all people, Mamoru-baka, could be so sentimental."

"And I never thought you knew what 'sentimental' meant, Odango. I guess this really is a night for firsts."

"Now don't you get me started, mister!" She shook a finger playfully in his face. "I don't want to make this the first argument of the entire day."

"Don't I know it," he murmured.

"What?"

"Hm? Oh…I was just wondering if you were about ready to go home yet, or if you were planning on catching pneumonia out in this cold."

Usagi looked up in surprise, but Mamoru detected a hint of pleasure in her voice as she said mildly, "I was thinking about heading home, actually."

"Come on, I'll walk with you." He looked up at the sky and winked at her. "That way if it starts raining on the way back, you won't have to dance alone."

"Can you fend off werewolves, too?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll have to start my rain dance, then, to be sure I don't pass up this opportunity of dancing with Mister Chiba, upperclassman extraordinaire." She curtsied and did a clumsy half-pirouette that nearly sent her knocking Mamoru off his feet. "Oops, sorry!"

He chuckled as he helped steady her again. "Let's just hope you don't dance that badly if the rain ever comes; I don't think I would last very long."

"Hey! That's not—"

"Let's go home, Usagi."

"Huh? Oh…Sure! And um, ba—I mean, Mamoru?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"Mm."

They turned as one and walked away from the flickering lamplight, each drawing comfort from the companionship that the other's presence offered amidst a night full of werewolves and other imaginary prowlers, until at last they were only two small figures in the distance, lost under the wide expanse of a cloudless, starry midnight sky.

* * *

I just spent two weeks in Florida and the Caribbean—and I feel so refreshed because of it! Be on the lookout for updates, and feel free as always to drop me a note! Still, as ever, it's good to be back.


	33. Gift

Hello, everyone!

I know I've been away for an _inexcusable_ length of time, and I hope that hasn't made anyone wonder if I've been hit by the mafia (for the record, I haven't). It has been an insane start of a new semester, and I'll be honest—I'm not handling the pressure very well. Technically speaking, my conscience is screaming in my ear that I _should_ NOT be up posting this—but I think the mafia got to it before it started screaming actual bloody murder.

Anyway, there _is_ a new drabble up now—the first in about two months, I'm sure—so I do hope everyone enjoys this as immensely as I enjoyed being able to write again! Please let me know what you think! It's kind of late right now, so I'm not sure I'm thinking clearly as I write this…

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_33. Gift_ (Word Count: 1195)

* * *

"Come get your Christmas gifts gift-wrapped now!"

"Only ten cents a present!"

"All money goes straight to Second Harvest Food Bank!"

"Here you go, sir! Have a happy holiday!" Minako chirped as she handed an old man a silver-wrapped box bedecked with a festive red bow. The man tossed a dime in the collection tin and shuffled away, mumbling a convoluted "Merry Christmas" under his breath.

Makoto stretched luxuriously in her seat, her clothes spotted with bits of tape and ribbon. "I can't believe what business we're getting today! We must've wrapped at least a hundred presents in the last hour."

"One-hundred and forty, to be exact," Ami exclaimed, counting the change in the tin box. "That's ten dollars and forty cents!"

"That's nine milkshakes, Ami," Usagi moaned. "Can't we take a lunch break or something? We've been here all morning!"

"If that money's for the food, may I suggest that you send someone _other_ than Odango to buy it?" a man's voice drawled from above them. "It might not reach its intended destination otherwise, if you know what I mean."

Usagi looked up in time to see Chiba Mamoru standing in front of their table, smirking.

"Sorry, we're a _charitable_ organization—no evil spirits allowed," she sneered, snatching up a pair of scissors menacingly. "So just mind your own business and go back to hel—OW, _Makoto_! What was _that_ for?"

"Are you crazy?" her friend hissed, digging her elbow more sharply into Usagi's side. "He's filthy rich! Have you _seen_ his motorcycle? This could be our big break!"

"Yeah—I'll break his neck..."

"Usagi-chan!"

"Fine, fine," Usagi grumbled, reaching for the ugliest roll of wrapping paper she could find—a murky brown with green polka dots that looked like it had been dipped in a pool of diarrhea. "What do you need wrapped, baka?"

Mamoru grinned. "Just this."

As soon as she spotted the small cardboard box in his hands, she could feel her insides burning up with curiosity. Since when did Mamoru-baka have friends that he was intimate enough with to give gifts to?

"Who's it for?" she asked.

He only shrugged and tossed the box onto the table.

"Fine. Slave-driver," Usagi muttered, grabbing the tape dispenser. They were silent for a moment as she wrapped the present. "There," she finally said, shoving the hideously-wrapped gift back to Mamoru. "Hope your _friend_ likes it."

Mamoru grinned. "I'm sure they will." He slid a dollar bill smoothly into the box, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "Happy Holidays, Odango!"

"Highly unlikely," she grumbled as the young man turned the corner and disappeared with the ugly gift-wrapped present tucked carefully under his arm. There was no way she was going to be able to enjoy the holiday season with _that_ hanging over her head.

* * *

"One strawberry milkshake!"

"Ooh—that's mine! Thanks, Motoki!" Usagi grabbed the thick shake and moaned she took a long, deep gulp. Then she let out another sigh of satisfaction and leaned over the glass for better purchase.

"Can you _not_?" the man sitting two stools down finally complained, scowling over his book at her. "Just because you're on winter break and can come in here anytime you please, doesn't mean the rest of us aren't actually trying to concentrate."

Usagi had just opened her milkshake-filled mouth to retort when a brown package on the counter in front of him caught her eye. She scowled back. "Maybe you shouldn't come to an _arcade_ to study, then."

He ignored her and turned the page of his textbook.

"Anyway," she continued when she couldn't stand his unyielding silence any longer, "When are you planning on giving that ugly thing away? It's been two weeks since you got it wrapped."

Mamoru didn't look up from his book. "Soon, hopefully."

"Hopefully?" Usagi pressed, trying to squash out the eagerness in her voice. Did the Almighty Mamoru have troubles too? "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means it's none of your business, and you should really learn to butt out, Odango."

"Fine, I will," she snapped, slinging her bag over her shoulder and getting to her feet. She couldn't resist adding as she walked away, "Whoever she is, she deserves you, I bet."

"You think so?"

The unfamiliar tinge of hope in his voice stopped her cold in her tracks. She turned slowly on her heel to face him.

"Only if she's as big a jerk as you," she amended, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as she looked into those suddenly bright eyes. Why couldn't she ever be the one to make him look that way?

"Oh, she is," he replied with a wistful smile.

"More ego than brains," Usagi countered.

"Yes, most definitely."

"Just as clueless as you," she scowled, throwing up her hands in frustration.

"Just about," Mamoru said with a grin that sent her heart into a frantic frenzy. They stood there for a moment, staring at one another.

"I don't _get_ it!" Usagi finally exploded, hitting her hand against the table and sending flecks of milkshake flying into the air. "Why do you even _like_ this girl if she's so unbearable?"

"Because she's adorable when she doesn't know what's going on," Mamoru chuckled, reaching up to wipe a bit of milkshake from her cheek. She could feel her body go stock-still at his warm touch. "Jaa, Odango," he said suddenly, standing up. "And again, have a good holiday, hm?" He flashed her a grin and strolled away with the textbook tucked carefully under his arm.

Usagi stared after him, gaping. What had just happened?

It took a moment for the déjà vu to kick in, and then it hit her, and hit her hard.

With the textbook…

…tucked carefully under…

_…the gift-wrapped present tucked carefully under his arm…_

"W-wait a second—hey, you forgot—!" Usagi's fingers fumbled for the gift he had left on the counter. "Darn it, that baka!" she muttered, picking up the package. "Now _I_ have to keep the stupid thing until…until…" The sentence trailed off unfinished as her eyes alighted on the words written in elegant scrawl across the box.

_For: Tsukino Usagi_

_From: Chiba Mamoru_

Usagi turned over the small piece of paper tied neatly with gold ribbon that had not been there before. On the back, it read:

_I'm convinced that you picked the ugliest sheet of wrapping paper you could find just to spite me—but that just goes to show that things aren't always what they seem to be, ne? Ugly wrapping paper for a beautiful girl. I don't get it either, but I'm sure it makes sense somehow. Hope the ribbon makes it less of an eyesore. Merry Christmas, Odango._

Her fingers trembled as she slipped the gift gingerly into her bag, making a mental note amidst all the flurry in her head to stop by the store on the way home, where she had seen a jacket last week that had reminded her forcibly of a certain someone. She had been dying to know before, but somehow it didn't seem so important to know now what exactly was inside the ugly polka-dotted gift box.

* * *

Remember, reviews are appreciated! Tomatoes are not. And I don't know how long it will be until the next post—but hey, here's to hoping, right?

Love, Ala Verity


	34. Ball of Yarn

A touch of holiday magic for you all (as if you haven't had enough of it already) to let you know that, no, unfortunately, I haven't been murdered by a mass of underpaid homicidal elves.

Hope you all had a great year, and have a great one ahead.

My resolution this year: to finish all of these drabbles and, dagnabbit, to complete "Notebooks!"

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

34. _Ball of Yarn_ (Word Count: 1,193)

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On the 25th day of the twelfth month of every year, a strange and fascinating phenomenon occurs.

"_Yahoo!"_

Tsukino Usagi is awake before the sun has fully risen.

"Get _up_, Mamo-chan!" the blonde shrieked in jubilation as she jumped up and down on the bed, causing her husband to roll with an unceremonious _thud_ onto the ground.

"…'Snotmorninyetgobacbtasleep," she heard him mumble from under the pile of covers heaped on the ground.

She threw a pink pillow at where his head should have been. "For God's sake, Mamo-chan, it's six a.m.! It's Christmas!"

"Errrnff," came his incoherent reply.

Usagi had been waiting for this moment for exactly 23 days, 22 hours, and 14 minutes.

"Oh, come _on_," she moaned, prodding the mountain of blankets with her foot when it didn't move. "You've made me wait a whole _month_ to open this present, and you won't even let me see what it i—_eeeeeek!_"

Her complaint was cut short as a hand suddenly shot out from under the heap, seized her by the ankle, and yanked her into the sea of blankets.

"Mmmph—Mamo-chan!" Usagi squealed, yanking aside the down comforter draped over her head to reveal a grinning, slightly disheveled-looking Mamoru. "You were awake!" she accused, jabbing a finger at his bare chest.

"Now when have you ever known me to wake up later than you, sleepyhead?" he teased, catching her finger with one warm hand and pulling her closer under the pile of blankets with the other. Usagi felt her heart melt a little bit as she pulled back to look at him. He always looked so sexy in those black-bottomed pajamas, and he knew it.

"Could've been a Christmas miracle," she muttered grudgingly as he kissed her on the nose.

"Don't you want to open your present, Usako?" he murmured into her hair.

"Merry Christmas, Mamo-chan, and yes," she replied, grinning.

"Merry Christmas, honey," he chuckled as he pulled a red gift-wrapped box out from somewhere underneath the pile of covers.

"I love it," Usagi declared even as she reached out to take the present from him. "What?" she demanded, smiling when Mamoru raised an eyebrow at her in question. "As long as it's from you, I know I'm going to love it."

"Even if I got you a year's supply of broccoli?" he asked against her lips as she kissed him.

"Even if," she replied firmly, adding in a mutter as she began unwrapping her gift, "But it better not be."

Mamoru laughed. "You'll see."

"Oookay…here I go," she said, taking a deep breath and opening the lid.

'Funny,' she thought as she tipped the box over and something hit her hand. 'Who knew that the diamond necklace I asked for would feel so much like—'

"…Yarn?"

A red ball of yarn tumbled innocently out of the box and into the palm of her hand.

"Yup," Mamoru replied cheerfully, hugging a pillow to his chest with an expectant smile on his face.

Darn it, she had trouble enough finding something intelligible to say without him giving her that heart-stopping look.

"I…um…" She looked around at the mass of blankets covering them like a tent, playing for time. What were you supposed to say when you received a ball of yarn from your soul mate for Christmas?

_Thank you, dear, I was hoping you would buy me this wonderfully useful ball of yarn!_

_Finally! A family heirloom suitable to pass on for generations!_

_Oh, Mamo-chan! *Swoon!*_

"Well…this is…ah…thanks, Mamo-chan!" she finally squeaked, trying to sound excited as she tossed the ball nervously up and down in her hand.

As excited as she could possibly sound over knitting yarn.

"You…don't like it?"

"W-wait, no! That's not it!" Usagi began frantically as Mamoru's face visibly fell. "I love it, I swear I do, I am—"

She stopped short at the look on his face. It was beyond disappointment. It was…

…Poorly-concealed amusement.

Mamoru took one look at the betrayed expression on his wife's face and promptly burst into laughter.

"Usako," he gasped, "You are the single most…gullible…_ever_…"

"Oh Chiba Mamoru, you are just _full_ of it today!" Usagi accused with a laugh, contriving to look hurt as the ball of yarn went tumbling out of her hand and into her husband's lap. "You see if you get anything from me today, mister, I'll have you know that—"

"No, hang on," he laughed, smoothing Usagi's hair in what was evidently meant to be a consoling gesture. "I mean it, here—"

He picked up the ball of yarn again and held it out to her.

"No?" he finally asked when Usagi glowered at him, trying to keep her own smile hidden. Both of them could feel something good coming. "Okay, well how about this, then?"

Mamoru flipped the ball over in the palm of his hand, plucked the end of the yarn from the rest, and placed it in Usagi's hand.

"You see, this is our love," he explained, placing his own hand over hers and tugging on the string. It resisted at first, then began unraveling easily and smoothly in their hands. "You start out at first with a ball of yarn—tangled a little at the beginning, maybe—"

The yarn caught, and both of them reached forward to unknot it.

"—but when we work at it, after a while," he continued, pulling on the red string again, "it grows into something long and beautiful, durable—"

The pile of yarn growing in Usagi's hand as they both pulled began spilling over onto the floor.

"And inside of it, at the very center of our love—"

He gave the string one final tug, and the final length of it fell next to their feet, revealing…

"—A beautiful gem," he breathed, reaching over to lift the diamond necklace that was sitting, no longer concealed, in the palm of her hand.

Usagi's eyes widened. "M-Mamo-chan…?"

"You look beautiful," Mamoru whispered, even before he had slipped the necklace around her neck.

"I—"

"Do you want to look in the mirror?" he asked, smiling at the look of astonishment on his wife's face as he fixed the clasp. "I know you tried it on before in the store, but I just thought that—"

Usagi threw her arms around Mamoru's neck and kissed him.

"I don't think I could look at anything but you right now," she breathed into his ear when she pulled away. "Thank you, Mamo-chan."

"…Merry Christmas, Usako."

They stayed silent for a moment, simply reveling in the magic of the moment as they sat in a tight embrace under the pile of overturned comforters.

"Ma-Mamo-chan?" Usagi finally asked, yawning.

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever thought about being a poet?" Usagi mumbled into his shoulder, struggling to keep her eyes open.

She was fast asleep before he even had a chance to answer.

"Not until you came along," he finally murmured, smiling as he drew her sleeping form against him. He pulled the blankets closer around them, closing his eyes as the first rays of sunlight peeked in through the bedroom window.

_Definitely not until you, Usako._

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In my defense, I had about two or three-months' worth of sap stored up that I had to splurge on in this drabble.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Hope to see you guys around a lot more in bright ol' 2009!

Love, Ala


	35. Daily Planner

This one's a long one—but it's a New Year's fic! Hooray for the new year! Sorry for the wait; hope it was worth it!

As always, let me know what you thought!

Note: Bolded words indicate cross-out's (since the formatting won't allow me to use strikethrough).

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

35. _Daily Planner_ (Word Count: 1,303)

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**Today, I will not**_ Usagi._

**There will be no going anywhere where**_ Odango._

**With no exception or under any circumstance will I think about** _Usako Usako Usako_.

"_Argh!_" Mamoru flung down his pen in frustration as it drew a miniature heart onto the page next to her name. "Dammit—_argh_!"

"Need another pen, buddy?" Motoki asked as he appeared from the back room, setting down a box of napkins with a _thud_ onto the counter. "I know how it feels when you're writing and suddenly—my God, Mamoru, what happened to your _planner_?"

"I know, I know," Mamoru moaned, burying his face in his hands. "Don't tell me, Motoki."

"But the new year's just _started_," Motoki remarked, picking up the black notebook and flipping through the pages. There was a short pause, then— "How long did it take you to _do_ this?"

From somewhere where his friend's face was hidden in his arms, Motoki thought he heard a sniffle. "A day."

"One _day?_"

Mamoru nodded glumly at his shoes.

"Listen to me," Motoki whispered, his voice now bordering between urgent and hysterically-amused, "Do you realize what you're doing? You've written—" He picked up the planner and waved it under his friend's nose— "—Usagi—_Tsukino Usagi_, the girl who you once argued with for _hours_ over the name 'triple-chocolate chunk swirl' until I kicked both of you out—

"That was lousy of you, by the way," Mamoru muttered.

"—you've taken her name and written it onto every single square in your monthly planner," Motoki finished, triumphant.

"You sound worried," Mamoru growled, standing up so suddenly that the stool he had been sitting on went flying behind him. It clattered noisily to the floor. "You want to hear the truth then? Fine. You're right, okay? You've _been_ right. I can't help but be mean when I see her. I can't _help_ it if she's the most—"

"Um, Mamoru?"

"—most annoying, shameless, _stubborn_—"

"Mamoru—" Motoki tried again.

"—wonderful girl I've ever met, okay? So _yes_," Mamoru said, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "Yes, I've filled up an entire planner with her name written all over it. _Yes_, I went to the warehouse where I would never, ever go otherwise and bought an entire year's supplies of monthly planners for the sole purpose of filling every damn day with her name. Because the truth is, I can't stop—"

"Baka!"

"—thinking about—"

"Mamoru-baka!"

"—U—I mean, holy shit, _Odango?_"

Mamoru whirled around in surprise as it suddenly registered exactly _who_ was calling his name.

"Happy New Year to you too," Usagi grumbled, pushing past him and setting her bag down on the seat next to his.

The sunlight streaming in through the arcade window suddenly felt much brighter. The room got warmer. Mamoru could feel his face glowing. The room spun as the ethereal goddess standing before him swept her golden hair over her shoulder and—

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Chiba—get a grip!' Mamoru thought, mentally kicking himself.

"What's wrong with _him_ today?" Usagi asked Motoki, casting a wary glance at the brooding young man beside her. "What happened, did he forget to color-code his list of new year's resolutions?"

"Today? Oh, nothing _today_," the arcade manager replied, adding in a loud whisper, "Nothing that wasn't wrong _yesterday_, at least."

Mamoru threw his friend a dirty look. "Don't you have a salt shaker to fill, Motoki?" he snapped.

Motoki rolled his eyes and turned around.

"Hey, what's this, baka?"

"What's wh—ohwaitnoyoucan'tseethat!"

"What?" Usagi asked, holding up the planner that had been lying on the counter. "You mean this? What is it?"

"Oy, don't you—"

"Aha!" Usagi exclaimed, thumbing through the book with a wicked grin. "So I was right—you _did_ forget to color-code it, didn't you? All twelve pages of…of…oh my God."

The black book slipped from between her fingers and fluttered noiselessly to the floor.

Mamoru looked up in horror to see Usagi staring, her mouth hanging wide open, first at him, then at the planner, then back at him again.

"Look, it's not what you—" he began.

Then he stopped.

She was beaming. Positively _beaming_.

"What…?" He paused to look around, completely bewildered. "Did I—did I _miss_ something?" he finally asked when no solution popped out in front of him and happily announced itself.

"Nothing," Usagi sang, suddenly full of good cheer. She bent over to scoop up the planner off of the floor, then pranced over to her bag and pulled something out. "I just came here to give you this, anyway," she said, placing something small and flat into his hand.

"What—What's this?" he stammered, not daring to look down. He thought that even if it was a stick of dynamite, he would be happy.

It was his first present ever from Tsukino Usagi.

"I never used mine," she chirped, tucking his planner into her own bag. "But I figured you probably need it more than I do. And I believe there are 104 pages instead of twelve—two for every week in the year, you know." She flashed him a grin as she swung her bag over her shoulder again and turned to walk out of the arcade. "It'll take you longer to fill up, that's for sure."

Mamoru managed to find his voice just as the doors slid open.

"I didn't know you could do math," he called after her.

She paused in the doorway. When she turned to face him again, she was smiling.

"I didn't know you were so creative, baka," she laughed. "'Usako'—I like it."

And then she was gone.

"Pinch me, Motoki," Mamoru croaked the moment her blonde pigtails had vanished out of sight.

His friend gave a mournful sigh. "Mamoru, I'm not pinch—"

_Splosh!_ The blond looked over in time to see his friend thrust his hand…straight into his cup of freshly-brewed, steaming-hot coffee.

"I was right—I _am_ dreaming," the young man moaned as his hand baked inside the scalding liquid. "I can't feel a _thing_."

"That's called 'love,' stupid," Motoki replied amiably, filling a cup with water and shoving his friend's hand into it. The sudden cold stung a little bit. Enough to awaken Mamoru's senses, anyway.

"Motoki," he said suddenly, looking up as if seeing him for the first time.

"Er…yes, Mamoru?"

"I hope you and Rita need a heck of a lot of monthly planners," he said, holding up the object that Usagi had given him. It was a small, leather book with the words "Daily Planner" embossed on the cover in gold.

"Why would we—"

"_Because I don't need them anymore!_" Mamoru yelled, jumping up and punching the air in jubilation. He threw his arms around Motoki, pulled him into a rib-cracking hug, then did the Chiba unthinkable—

He skipped out of the arcade, singing "Have a Happy New Year" at the top of his voice and hugging every single patron within reach on his way out.

"_And a happy new yearrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr—to you—and to you—and meeeeee—"_

A full five minutes passed before Motoki could do anything other than gape after his best friend.

"Looks like we're going to have to keep you in a safe place for when Mamoru comes to his senses and returns for you," Motoki muttered to the abandoned planner on the counter when his eyes had stopped bulging. "I have a feeling that it's going to be a _very_ interesting year ahead."

He chuckled, stole one last glance at the open pages of the daily planner, and tucked it safely into his apron pocket.

Inside, crammed in miniscule scrawl in every single box on all 104 pages of it, were the same two words written over and over again:

_Chiba Mamo-chan._

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For a schedule of 2009's planned story release dates (including "Notebooks," "Flirting with Disaster," AI Valentine's Day fic "Down the Rabbit Hole," more drabbles, and a _brand_ _new_ fanfic), visit my Livejournal at username bubblebubba.

Have a happy new year, everyone!


	36. Champagne

I still feel like I'm going to wake up at any moment and realize, darn it all, I dreamt up this drabble and school's started again.

Ala Verity, presenting you with an actual drabble-length drabble.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

36. _Champagne_ (Word Count: 360)

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"Menu?" Usagi asked, pointing at her menu.

"Filled with new and exotic tastes, just like you," Mamoru replied, kissing his wife softly on the lips.

"Mm…what about the cactus in the corner?" the blonde suggested, winking.

"Durable and sustainable even under the harshest conditions—not," Mamoru added, grinning, "unlike our love."

"Oh, poo," Usagi huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "I thought I had you on that one."

"Any other excuses to forestall the inevitable, or are you giving up?" her husband asked, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

The young woman frowned, tapping a finger against her chin as she thought. "Aha! I've got it!" she finally exclaimed, turning so eagerly in her seat that the vase in the middle of the table jumped and sloshed all over the white tablecloth.

"What is it?"

"Champagne," she declared, leaning back in her chair with a triumphant smile.

Mamoru's smirk faded a little bit. "Champagne?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Yup—champagne," Usagi said, positively beaming now. "I hate the taste of it—it's bitter, and vile, and nasty—what do you make of _that_, Chiba Mamo-chan?"

Mamoru's felt his heart sink. There was no way he could make an analogy between his wife and the one thing in the world she detested most. Champagne. There was no way he would win this bet, no way at all.

Unless…

"So, are you ready to admit defeat, dearest Mamo-chan?" Usagi crooned, flashing him a smug smile across the table.

"Usako…"

"Hmm?" the blonde murmured, smoothing out her tresses with complete complacency. Two more seconds, and—

"Usako."

"Yes, Mamo-chan?"

"…_Bubbly._"

"What?"

"You're bubbly."

"Wait…_No._"

"Just."

"No _way_."

"Like."

"No no no no no no no no!"

"Champagne."

"_Aghhh! No!"_

"And Chiba Mamoru takes the gold!" he cheered to an invisible crowd, reaching for the plate in the middle of the elegantly-decorated table.

"You are not taking my—_ahhhhh! The last Twinkie!_"

"Patience, my bubbly wife," Mamoru cautioned, winking as he shoved the cream-filled roll into his mouth. "Or you'll explode—"

"_Wagh! _My Twinkie!_"_ Usagi screeched, scrabbling at him across the table.

"—just like—"

"Giveitbackgiveitback—!"

"—a bottle of unopened champagne."

"…_MAMO-CHAN!_"

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Ffnet's counter and traffic pages are insanely glitchy…but that's neither here nor there, just a bit of annoyance on my part. Let me know what you thought!


	37. Pocketknife

I'm one of those writers that you love to hate. I know that I've taken something of a three-month hiatus—but hey, you're here for the story, not the shpeil, right? Enjoy! More to come in the coming week, I promise.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

37. _Pocketknife_ (Word Count: 672)

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His cape fluttered noiselessly to the floor as he landed next to me.

"Don't move," he breathed into my ear, sending a familiar tingle of excitement down my spine.

A streak of silver flashed in the corner of my eye, dazzling after the hours of darkness I had spent imprisoned in the dungeon. I blinked, trying to peer past the veil of darkness pressing in on my eyes. When I opened them again, however, he was gone.

A sudden wave of panic seized me—had I only imagined he had been here? Was Tuxedo Kamen still being held off by the force-field surrounding the fortress—or worse, had he given me up as a lost cause and left?

"This might hurt," I heard a low voice murmur from behind me, and I let out the breath of relief I had denied myself until I knew that he was there beside me again. "It'll only be for a second, I promise."

I opened my mouth to tell him that I would be fine when the ropes suddenly tightened around me, forcing the breath out of me. I choked and doubled over automatically, my body protesting against the strong hand that forced me upright. I heard a slash, followed by a sawing sound, then a muffled _thud_ as the ropes to the floor around me.

Oxygen rushed back into my lungs and I doubled over again, gasping for air.

"Are you all right?" A warm gloved hand pressed lightly against my back.

I nodded at the stone floor, fighting back the urge to simply keel over. The white spots clouding my vision eventually faded, only to reveal Tuxedo Kamen's masked—but clearly concerned—face barely inches from my own.

"I'm fine," I gasped thickly, wheezing into his face perhaps with less grace than I would have preferred to prove myself capable of.

"If you say so." He flashed me a quick grin and turned away from me, working deftly to unravel the remaining ropes and leaving me feeling slightly unnerved. Where had I seen that smile before?

"Uhh, Tuxedo Kamen…" I began when I felt that I could speak again without making a complete buffoon out of myself or, better yet, vomiting all over his squeaky-clean dress shoes.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for saving me. Again."

"Don't worry about it." Through the dimness of the room, I thought I saw him fighting back a smile as he held something up for me to see. "Wouldn't have been much help without _this_, anyway—I'm at a complete loss when it comes to knots, nearly died once trying to untangle my safety rope during Boy Scout training. They never let me pass because of it."

He pressed the cool, slender object into my palm as I tried to imagine a much younger Tuxedo Mask dressed in an ugly poop-colored uniform being thwarted by something as simple as a knotted rope. My eyebrows shot up in amusement at the thought. Somehow the word "confounded" and the drop-dead gorgeous caperer kneeling in front of me didn't quite go together.

"What it is?" I asked instead, squinting at the object in my hand. Through the darkness, I could vaguely make out the outline of a flat cylinder. Its body was well-worn, and the red (or at least, I assumed it was red) paint had been completely scratched off in several places, revealing its shiny silver undercoating. But still visible in the uppermost corner, etched in gold lettering…

"It's a pocketknife. I carry it with me everywhere I go, thank God."

"I can see that," I finally replied, handing it back to him with a million-watt grin that had nothing to do with the image of Tuxedo Kamen in poop-colored attire. He took it, looking slightly confused, but nothing could squash the sudden feeling of delight that had bubbled up inside of me.

Under the faint rays of moonlight that filtered in from the high tower windows, the golden initials C.M. winked up at me, a private conspirator in our newfound secret.

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Reviews and feedback are always appreciated. Thank you!

I had a major, major case of writer's block on this drabble, as all and one can testify to. I'm using my one-week break as a springboard (hopefully) for at least a few more drabbles and some work on "Notebooks" (finally!), so look forward to that!

Love, Ala


	38. Studying

Call the parade for-hire, it's another drabble!

Let's see how long I can keep this up! I've just finished the big first scene to the next chapter of "Notebooks" (yes, the cliffhanger's unhung!), and now I'm having lots of fun writing up all the juicy mischief that Usagi comes up with while she's, well, you'll see. I also have the next drabble under revision, so look out for that sometime soon!

And oh, in the meantime, enjoy ^^

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

38. _Studying_ (Word Count: 566)

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Mamoru loved studying.

In fact, he loved it so much that he could never be found without a book on those sunny Tokyo afternoons, tucked away in his trusty corner booth, in perfect view of the front entrance. It was his "life-leeching, all-consuming obsession," as Motoki so delicately put it.

Mamoru preferred to call it a "healthy outlet."

The subject of his studies, oddly enough, never changed, no matter how long or how hard he studied. Sure, every afternoon would introduce a different Physics chapter, a new Calculus textbook. But if you looked closely enough, you would notice that his eyes never moved, even after his hands automatically moved to turn the page. He never seemed to register the words, and he only stared at the bolded headings about the Cold War as long as was necessary to convince the other customers that he was reading.

He was, in a way, too busy studying to study.

Instead, he studied the way an automatic smile graced a certain girl's lips when one of her friends joined her at the table. He studied her fingers, which splayed themselves out on the counter like a delicate feather fan when she ordered a drink from Motoki, that lucky bastard of a friend who chatted with her as easily as if the world didn't depend on whether or not she spoke to him that day. He studied every minute detail of her face, memorizing the smooth curve of her jaw and the very curvature of her thick, full lashes. He studied the way her features seemed to radiate as she walked over to him, her hips swaying from side to side in mesmerizing metronome, and murmured to him…

"Are you done with that, Mamoru-baka?"

"Huh?"

Usagi huffed and jabbed an impatient finger at something in front of him. "I _said_, are you done with that textbook? You've been sitting here for the past half hour not turning a single page, and Ami wants to know if she can borrow it for a day."

"Oh." He blinked and looked down at the pages that he had stopped noticing for the past thirty minutes, then looked up again. "Yeah, sure, you can take it, Odango," he shrugged, pushing the book towards her.

"Okay. Thanks."

Mamoru's mind worked furiously to come up with something to say to her before she could take the textbook and leave. "You just caught me off guard because I thought for a moment that _you_ wanted to read it, Odango," he finally drawled, leaning back with a smug smile on his face, "and we all know that the day you ask to read a textbook is the day when the world goes up into flames."

Usagi's hand froze mid-reach. Her eyes went wide, first in surprise, then with unmistakable fury. "I don't even know why I bother!" she screeched, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning around so quickly that her heels left scorch marks in the tile. "You're just so—_argh!_ Ami!" he heard her squeal as she marched back to her bemused friend sitting at the counter, "Next time, you get your stupid books yourself!"

Mamoru chuckled and pulled his textbook closer to himself again, skimming through the sections without any effort now. She might be the worst student in the world, but somehow studying with Tsukino Usagi always made things so much more interesting.

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So what did you think? I'm trying to kick my butt back into gear with these little snippets, so definitely feel free to leave any feedback or criticism that'll get my very rusty writing hand back in shape! Rotten tomatoes and tomato omelettes welcome (hey, I'll take what I can get!). And thanks as always to everybody who's sticking with me despite my, erm, lack of consistent dedication—I'm working up back to weekly updates, I promise!

See you in a bit! Review!


	39. Cologne

Hi guys!

I know it's not the one-a-week update I promised, and I know that it's not "Notebooks," either (which, by the way, I _am_ still working on—I haven't quite wrestled my scene-by-scene muse into complete submission yet), but it's here! And this time, there's two!

The first one was from a draft that I wrote almost a year ago, when I first came up with the idea while looking over the themes list; I've kept almost all of the original. The second drabble is a sort of pell-mell version of my writing at present, with a bit more plot-line and, hopefully, a bit more depth. It's not the best, but I enjoyed writing it and hope you all enjoy the read! Cheers!

Edit: Thanks to everyone who pointed out the mistaken POV change in the second drabble ^^" I originally wrote it as a first-person POV, then decided to change it to a third-person narrative when I needed to flash back into the arcade near the end and realized that it wouldn't work from Usagi's perspective. Thank you! These are the sort of comments that are really, really helpful, so always feel free to send in more! (Gosh, I can't believe I missed it, though!)

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_39. Cologne_

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_Drabble Number 1 _(Word Count: 679)

Cologne. He didn't wear cologne.

She didn't care if he didn't wear brand name jeans. She could handle it if he didn't wear those heart-stopping shades or $500 dress shoes. She thought she could even survive if he showed up one day not wearing a shirt or any pants.

Okay, so maybe not. But that was only because the thought of a pants-less Mamoru made her go weak in the knees, and then she might be standing next to a running chainsaw when she swooned.

But of all the things in the world _not_ to wear, for crying out loud—he didn't wear cologne!

What in the world was she supposed to remember him by? All the girls at school would sigh as they thought about their boyfriends or secret crushes, exchanging stories about the men in their lives with a dreamy inhalation of air.

Some, they said, smelled like pine, or the woods, or some other forest scent that recalled the strong, sturdy (not to mention drop-dead gorgeous) woodcutter from Little Red Riding Hood. Some preferred the more overpowering essences of Axe and alternate forms of brain cell-killing products. Even Naru confessed blushingly that Umino had his own scent; something akin to that of Pepe la Piu. Man, Usagi had thought she'd never sink to that level of desperation.

But Mamoru was as scentless as a rock. Like cheap hotel lotion. What was _she_ supposed to remember him—

"—by? Uh, Odango? Earth to Odango!"

Usagi blinked. "Huh?"

Mamoru rolled his eyes, readjusting his far too heavy backpack, which was undoubtedly crammed full of advanced science texts and classic literature. "Is this seat taken?" He pointed to the seat across from her. "All the _good_ seats are occupied."

In other words, there was not a single empty seat that was not next to her left in the arcade.

"Go ahead," Usagi replied with a frown, waving her hand dismissively at the spot. "Sit away. Literally, if you can manage it."

He grinned at her as he slid into the booth, setting down his bag next to him. Usagi noticed that a very cute dimple appeared at the corner of his lip when he smiled.

"So what have you been up to, Odango? Run over any poor kitties lately?" he joked, propping his chin casually on his right palm.

The deep timbre of his voice resonated through her body, and she memorized the familiar sound. She did not, however, respond.

"Odango?" Mamoru repeated, frowning.

Usagi's gaze wandered to the tiny, almost imperceptible creases in Mamoru's forehead. "Hmm?"

His eyebrows shot up. "What's up with you today?" he finally asked, a bit unnerved.

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. I don't believe you."

When Usagi responded, her voice sounded small to her own ears. "You don't wear cologne…do you, Mamoru?"

For a moment, Mamoru narrowed his eyes as if he suspected a joke coming on. They turned a shade of deep sea blue, and Usagi felt she could almost drown herself in them.

Then, suddenly, his face changed. The suspicious expression slowly gave way to a confident smirk as Mamoru leaned back, as if expecting a good laugh from what she was about to say next. A surprising light crystal blue, dancing and twinkling in the sunlight.

"That depends. Have you been sniffing me, Odango?"

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"_What? _No!"

His lips curved into a genuine smile. Eyes the color of the daytime sky, the rays of sunlight cutting smoothly across his face.

"Liar," he teased, laughing. The mesmerizing sound surrounded Usagi like a glowing light. She watched, entranced, as he finally reached into the bag beside him and burrowed his nose into a textbook.

Safely hidden behind the cover of his book, Usagi sighed dreamily, pulling her drink closer to herself. She propped her chin on her hand and continued to glance at him occasionally out of the corner of her eye, reveling in every motion, every gesture, every feature, and thinking to herself all the while:

'Now why did I have trouble coming up with something to remember him by again?'

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_Drabble Number 2_ (Word Count: 1,138)

Some people thought Usagi had eyes sticking out of the back of her head.

According to Minako, who had just made her revelation to her friend over a cup of triple-chunk chocolate milkshake, that was what the infamous odangoes were for. Hiding…eyes.

Usagi took another long draught of her drink before deciding to respond "How'd you figure _that_ one out, Minako-chan?" she finally asked, looking unimpressed by the blonde's non sequitor conclusions.

"It's just that, well…" Minako leaned across the table and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, "You _see_ things."

She added a peculiar eyebrow-waggle to her little speech, as if the gesture confirmed the truth of the matter once and for all. Usagi paused for a moment, unsure whether or not Minako was being serious, and snorted when she saw no hint of laughter in her friend's expression.

"Like what?" she demanded.

"Like…like everything!" Minako exclaimed, looking offended at Usagi's obvious indifference to this proclamation of the utmost importance.

"Right." Usagi rolled her eyes. "Because it's not enough that I'm already Sailor Moon—I should be able to see through guys shirts, too?"

"Well, that would be convenient—but no," Minako added, waving her hand dismissively when Usagi shot her a half-exasperated, half-amused look. "What I mean is that you can _see_."

Usagi reached across the table and snatched Minako's milkshake away from her, ignoring her protests as she set it down on the seat next to her. "I really think you've had too much sugar today already, Minako, because I have no idea what you're—oh, damn it."

Minako frowned. "What?"

"N-Nothing," she replied quickly, cursing silently under her breath. The front doors of the arcade had just slid open behind them, welcoming a warm breeze from the sunny outdoors. The air wafted in with it the unmistakable aroma of thyme that only somebody anticipating it could have detected, with just the slightest hint of jasmine. _His_ scent. God, she could make Edward Cullen's stalker routine look like a schoolboy crush compared with hers!

"Er…yeah, sort of like that," Minako remarked, now glancing with obvious glee between Usagi's stony gaze, which was now fixed resolutely on the shiny black countertop, and the entrance where she knew a certain young man to have just walked through. "I mean," she added with an air of disapproval, "I know you don't like him, Usagi, but really—"

"Don't…_like_?" Usagi growled, refusing to look up.

"I mean, he _can_ be annoying at times, but you should—"

"At _times_? _Ha!_ If at times you mean every hour of the day, Minako," she replied over her voice, her own rising in volume as she became aware of his footsteps approaching their booth. "I mean, who on Earth could actually like that self-centered, egotistical, arrogant, puffed-up, stubborn, awful, overgrown son of a—"

His shadow crossed their table, and she whirled on him.

"—_son of a_…Umino?"

And Usagi blanched, blinking in disbelief as she nearly pounced, not on her mortal enemy, as she had expected, but a very stunned—and slightly scared—Umino.

"Er, y-yes?" Umino stuttered, looking as floored as a survivor of a raging hurricane.

"Umino? Oh my—w-what are you—" she stammered. "I mean, that is, why are you—it's just that you—oh my, I'm so sorry!" she finally blurted in utter horror, tripping over both her words and her feet as she fumbled for her bag. "I thought you were someone else, Umino, I'm sorry!" And without waiting for a reply, she dashed out of the arcade, barely mumbling a "sorry" as she slammed into an innocent customer in her hurry to escape.

_Idiot, idiot!_ she scolded herself as her feet flew down the block, as far away from the crime scene as possible. _You almost gave yourself away back there!_

"But who would've thought Umino would wear the same cologne as Mamoru-baka, anyway?" she moaned aloud as she rounded the corner, the arcade disappearing abruptly behind her.

"Er…what just happened?" the young man who had just walked through the front doors asked, raising his eyebrow at the spot where a blonde human tornado had just tore past him, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Umino, are you okay?" he added, spotting the shocked student still standing, frozen, next to Minako's table.

"I'm fine…" Umino shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "I don't even know what happened!" he finally wailed, squeezing his eyes tight shut. "I didn't even get the chance to say hello, and next thing I knew she was up at my throat, and then—and then she turned around and got this look in her eyes and just ran out…" Umino slumped down into the booth across from Minako and buried his face in his arms. "It's hopeless…" he mumbled.

The young man surveyed his mentee for a long, interminable moment. Then, as if a sudden idea occurred to him that rearranged everything he had heretofore been aware of in a new light, his face lit up and a wide, irrepressible grin appeared across his handsome features.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Umino," he said at last, patting the glum boy on the back with excess good cheer. When Umino raised his eyes with a questioning look, the upperclassman nodded reassuringly. "She said she mistook you for someone else, didn't she? That means it couldn't have been about you! She was probably just, er…"

Thinking it was me. Waiting for me. Thinking about me.

"…expecting someone."

"Yeah…" Umino frowned. "But how did you know that?" he added, clearly confused. "I didn't mention that to you, did I?"

The man fought back a smile. "Oh, call it a hunch."

"Oh…well…" Umino sighed and slid down in his seat again. "I hope you're right."

"I'm sure she thinks you're a very good friend."

Both of them paused, the silence interrupted only by the sound of the young man's fingers drumming merrily on the tabletop.

Umino straightened up suddenly. "That's right, I almost forgot," he said, leaning over into his backpack. "Here's the bottle of cologne you lent me, Mamoru-san. You can have it back. I think it works better for you than for me…" He thrust a small, translucent blue bottle at Mamoru, who took it with a small smile.

"Maybe. We'll find something that suits you better next time," he added with a sincere nod, slipping the bottle back into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you, Mamoru-san."

"Don't mention it."

Excusing himself, Mamoru stood up and strode to the entrance, the faintest trace of thyme and jasmine wafting into the arcade behind him as the doors slid open once more. And he couldn't help but grin as he walked down the sunny block and rounded the corner, either. After all, life was so much better when you knew you were being noticed.

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Amazing? Award-winning material? Deserving of a rotten tomato? Fated to be dumped into a landfill, compressed into a tight square of literary failure-hood, and sent into space so that no other living being need ever be contaminated by these drabbles' contents? Send me a critique, a review, a word letting me know what you thought!

And as always, thank you, dearest readers!

Always, Ala


	40. Pointillism

Hello, one and all ye faithful readers!

Summer vacation is coming (for those of us who have it; I'm not complaining), which means that you should be seeing a flood in your inbox soon. I've just accepted an internship for a writing center that was originally a branch of a big local publishing house, so hopefully that will keep my creative steam going! I'm also entering finals mode, but that's negligible (sort of).

Anyway, you should be seeing an influx of update alerts soon—which is hopefully a good thing! Hope this doesn't disappoint, since it's been a while since I've written anything worth reading (I think so, anyway)—let me know what you think!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_40. Pointillism_ (Word Count: 889)

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"Look, Usagi—it's the manga exhibit!"

"Manga? _Where?_"

"There! Look!" Minako, who had dressed for the occasion in her finest tourist ensemble—complete with pink tennies and a pair of binoculars—pointed to an archway across the hall. "I heard that Yumeno Yumeni just came out with a new series!"

"A _new series_? By Yumeno Yumeni? _No way!_" And Usagi, unable to contain her excitement, dashed without a backwards glance through the open doorway, leaving the man next to her to roll his eyes in her wake.

"I hear the new museum curator who works there is hot," Minako added pointedly to the young man, whose features instantly glazed over into a steely expression. He turned sharply on his heel and strode away in the direction Usagi had left in, mumbling something under his breath about "always getting into trouble."

Minako fought back a rising giggle as she watched the dark man slip around the corner and disappear into the gallery.

"Er, Minako?" asked Motoki, who was frowning at the map in his hands. "It says here that the comic book exhibit isn't due until July."

Minako seemed, if anything, cheered by his news. "That's right!" she chirped, swinging her binoculars jovially through the air.

"Wait…so if that's not the manga gallery, then where did you just…?"

Before he had time to finish his question, however, a bloodcurdling scream splintered the still air. They looked at one another, one pair of eyes surprised, the other undeniably mischievous.

"Usagi!" they cried together.

The two of them wheeled around the corner in time to see Usagi, cowering in the middle of the room like a forest deer surrounded by hunters. And the lone protective tree in the middle of that forest was…

"Ouch! Odango, let go of my arm!"

"Oh my god—why are there so many _dots_ everywhere?" Usagi squealed, squeezing Mamoru's arm so hard that it had turned an admirable purple, the shade of which matched the painting of lavender flowers behind them perfectly.

"Because this is a pointill—OW! That was my foot, Odango!" Mamoru complained, trying to wedge his foot out from underneath Usagi's merciless shoes, which had dug themselves into his toes out of their owner's sheer terror.

"I hate dots! I hate holes!Oh my god, I can't _breathe_—"

"I don't think _breathing_ is your problem at the moment," the young man growled, finally managing to pry Usagi's foot from his but succeeding only in winding her leg around his arm instead, so that he was stooped over like a hunchback in front of her. "Tell me, Odango—if you're trypophobic, why in the _world_ would you come to a pointillism exhibit?"

"I didn't know!" the blonde wailed, flinging her arms around Mamoru's neck in her hysteria. "I don't know! I don't even know what 'tripe-hobo' means!"

"It's an irrational fear of holes or dots—and _that was my hand!_" he yelled, spinning around so violently that a few of the spectators who had paused to watch backed away warily.

"Oh my god, make it stop, baka, _make it stop—"_

"_All right! Fine!_" Mamoru roared. And without waiting for a response, he bent over altogether, sweeping the girl right off her feet. She screamed.

"_What are you_—"

"Will you please just—"

"—put me down! Eeek!"

"—keep your mouth shut, I'm trying to get you out of here! Ow!"

"No, no, you're getting too close to the dots!" Usagi shrieked hysterically, jabbing her fingers as they flew past the pastel paintings lining the walls.

"_Then bury your face in my damn shoulder already, Odango, and for goodness' sake let me do my job!"_ Mamoru bellowed, swinging Usagi swiftly from over his shoulder and into his arms so that he was carrying her a la Prince Charming.

Caught under the burning ferocity of Mamoru's glare, Usagi's eyes went wide.

"…Okay," she squeaked after a second of hesitation. Then, without another word, she hid her face against Mamoru's shoulder and allowed herself to be carried out of the exhibit, leaving the entire room in an astonished silence.

The elderly curator cleared his throat awkwardly, blinked, and sidled timidly back into his chair in the corner of the exhibit.

"Er…" was all Motoki could manage when he had emerged from his shocked stupor.

Minako, on the other hand, was all smiles. "We did it!" she exclaimed, positively beaming.

Motoki, who could not see for the life of him what they "had done" except possibly disturb a hundred-odd customers' peaceful afternoons, cringed at the notion that they had actually _accomplished_ something.

"Just wait until next time," Minako went on, pulling out a pad of paper from her purse and drawing a tiny checkmark on it. "We're going to the carnival!"

Motoki blinked. Then he shook his head "But we can't go to the carnival, Minako," he protested. "Mamoru _hates_ clowns. That's why we've never…never gone…"

Realization dawned on his features.

"Oh," he finished.

"Exactly." Minako's smile was beatific.

"Minako?" Motoki finally asked.

"Hmm?"

"So what do you think the look on Mamoru's face will look like when _Usagi_ tries to pick him up?"

Minako turned in time to see a wide grin stretch across Motoki's lips, and she grinned back, both of them thoroughly amused at the thought of Chiba Mamoru, damsel in distress.

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Good? Bad? Worthy to be fed to the ravenous sharks, along with me? Critique, review, and, as always, drop a note!

--Ala


	41. Jacket

In Usagi's defense (and I'm not even sure it's much of a defense, but here's to trying), I didn't know what the difference between a jacket and a coat was until I was about ten. Not that I'm saying she has an intellect the equivalent of a fifth grader's, but…oh, for crying out loud! She's fourteen (or something), cut her some slack for the purposes of this drabble. Thanks!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

41. _Jacket_ (Word Count: 846)

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For the longest time, Usagi did not know what the difference between a coat and a jacket was. She wasn't stupid; she had just never taken the time out to ponder the problem.

Today was different. The day had started out looking promising enough, and Usagi had decided to wear a light jacket over her usual blouse and skirt. Midway through the day, however, the autumn wind began to whistle through the bare tree branches, and by the time the school bell rang at the end of the day, the gust was positively howling against the rooftops.

"Oh no," Usagi moaned, watching her classmates shuffle past her with their heads ducked and coats gathered tightly around them. "I should have brought my long jacket! Mama's going to kill me if I catch a cold in this weather…"

And bracing herself against the biting air, she launched herself into the merciless wind.

She hardly had time to be blown away, however, because next thing she knew, something large and thickly-padded bumped into her.

"Oof!" she grunted, falling unceremoniously to the ground.

The stranger's words were slightly lost in the wind, but Usagi would have recognized that voice anywhere.

"Well, well, well—look what the wind blew in today."

She looked up in time to see Mamoru standing in front of her, wrapped tightly in an enormous gray overcoat that made him look like an oversized animal. Despite the fact that the lower half of his face was completely obscured by a green scarf, she could clearly tell that he was grinning.

Usagi scowled, pink nose thrust rebelliously in the air as she brushed off her skirt and stood up.

"I d-d-d-don't have…t-t-time to…_d-d-d-d-deal_—" The sound of her chattering teeth made her speech incomprehensible for a moment, but she added in a defiant voice, making sure every syllable rang clearly in the frosty air, "B-b-b-b-b-baka!"

Mamoru's eyebrows shot up as he looked up and down her shivering form. "Cold much, Odango?"

"N-n-n-no!" She pulled her blue lips down into a grimace.

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the yard, kicking up a whirlwind of leaves and gravel around their ankles.

"Ow! Ow, stop!" Usagi shrilled, dancing around to avoid the bits of debris biting at her exposed legs. "Hey!" she added fiercely, whipping her head around to face Mamoru. "Are you a guy, or what?"

The smirk on his face faltered a moment, before returning with its usual brilliance. "So you've noticed, have you?" Mamoru teased.

"Oh, _please_. Sp-p-pare me, I meant your—j-j-j-jacket!"

Her words were interrupted by a strange thudding sound, and Mamoru looked down to see Usagi's knees, which were knocking into one another so violently that they looked in danger of ramming one another clean off.

What he noticed, however, was not how cold she must have been—after all, she wasn't the only girl running around the school yard in what was, in his opinion, much too short and skimpy a skirt (but whatever happened to good, old-fashioned convent uniforms and wimples, anyway?). No, he was more concerned with another little fact; namely, that she was the only girl whose knee-knocking, bare legs were drawing any attention from passerby, who were pretending to keep their eyes low to protect their faces from the wind, but were in fact intent on something else…

Mamoru's brows drew together into an unhappy frown, and he threw a furious glare at a hapless boy, who hurried on by without another glance their way.

"Have some decency, geez, Odango," he mumbled, shrugging out of his overcoat and draping it over her shoulders before she could say 'freezing.'

Usagi looked up from underneath the heavy woolen coat in surprise.

"You know, I was just kidding, baka," she said when she could find her voice again. She found it much easier to speak when her teeth stopped chomping against one another like a thresher. "You can have it back—you must be cold, too."

Mamoru muttered something, the words "ridiculous" and "legs" barely audible. "I'm wearing a sweater, I'll be fine," he added in a mutter, thrusting his now-exposed hands into his pockets as they began to walk.

"Er, thanks," she finally chirped, pulling the coat closer around herself. It was still warm inside. "I'll give your jacket back when we get there, I promise."

Mamoru grunted.

"What?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ground as they walked. "I _said_—it's not a jacket. It's a coat."

Usagi looked up at him, taken aback by his sudden surliness. "What's the difference?" she asked, blinking. "Is there a difference?

"A coat covers your legs."

"Oh."

Usagi pulled up the collar of the coat, taking care to make it look like she was protecting her face from the wind. Then she grinned. In fact, she now knew the real difference between a coat and a jacket, and she made a mental note to herself to give away anything that went past her waist when she got home.

After all, only a jacket would keep Chiba Mamoru running to her.

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I hope you enjoyed it! I had fun writing it—now if only I could figure out where I misplaced my own Chiba Mamoru…le sigh.

Feedback and fresh tomatoes welcome!

Ala Verity


	42. Desire

Spoiler Alert #1: HARRY POTTER IS A WIZARD.  
Spoiler Alert #2: USAGI IS SAILOR MOON. NO. Freakin'. WAY.  
Spoiler Alert #3: This drabble involves BOTH. And if you're scared of more spoilers, don't read this. But seriously. Don't be lame. Read it.  
Note: I'm re-typing all of this up on an ancient PC with Notepad because I don't have internet access on my laptop and couldn't wait a week to post, so if there are any formatting errors, I take no responsibility for it whatsoever. Then again, I don't take responsibility for anything else other than fabulous-ness, happy thoughts, and wonderful compliments, so there you are.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

42. Desire (Word Count: Around 1,300)

"Well, and what have we here?" Mamoru drawled as he came to a half in front of what appeared to be a book with golden meatballs sticking out of it. "So the brainless butterfly has degenerated into a muddled bookworm at last."  
The pigtailed-book creature mumbled something he could not hear.  
"What?" he asked, grinning.  
"I said, leave me alone."  
"Oh--the book-creature speaks!"  
A pair of hands appeared out of nowhere and slammed the book shut with a forceful snap, revealing an angry pair of blue eyes. "Go and find somebody else to annoy," Usagi hissed, moving the book out of his reach. Mamoru, however, caught a glimpse of the title before she shoved it under the table.  
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked gleefully, sliding uninvited into the seat across from her. "Real intellectual material, Odango."  
"Leave me alone!"  
"I'm just saying--"  
"Go!" And with an irritable harrumph, Usagi pulled out the book and buried her nose in its pages once more.  
"Come on, at least tell me what part you're at," Mamoru insisted when it became apparent that she was serious about ignoring him.  
"What does it matter to you?" came her muffled voice from behind the book. "It's not like a person like you would read it. Real 'intellectual' material, remember?"  
"Try me."  
Usagi hesitated, then she snapped, "It's the part about a mirror. Happy? Now--"  
"The Mirror of Erised?"  
"Yes, the--wait." She lowered her book long enough to shoot Mamoru a suspicious glare. "How did you know that?"  
Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Intellectual material or not, Odango, the series is an international phenomenon. Just becase you're a dozen years too late starting, doesn't mean the rest of the world is."  
He smirked, waiting for an angry retort to fly out of the blonde's mouth. Instead of throwing a fit, however, Usagi seemed to grow suddenly nervous.  
"Oh. Right," she muttered, biting down on the corner of her lower lip.  
"Er, I am?"  
"Well, no, I mean...So you know what the mirror does, right?" she asked in a tiny voice, looking up at him with those doe eyes that would make Frosty melt.  
"Yeah. It reflects the thing you most desire. Why?" he added when he had folded his arms across his chest, leaned back in his seat, and done everything in his power to convince Usagi that he was not in the least bit interested by the question that would inevitably follow. His heart, however, sped up a little bit in anticipation.  
"Oh, it's nothing, it's just...well, I was wondering...what would a cold-hearted baka like you see?" she blurted, her cheeks flushing. When Mamoru looked up, she was staring at the book cover, her face resolutely set.  
"Me?" Joy flitted across Mamoru's features, and he was glad for once that Usagi was not looking at him. "Well, I'd see...me, I guess--"  
"I knew it!" Usagi screeched, her head shooting up in a mixture of alarm and revulsion.  
"--holding a pair of woolen socks," he finished, fighting back a shout of laughter at Usagi's expression. Her jaw had dropped almost to the table.  
"Wool--woolen...hang on," she muttered to herself, still gaping at Mamoru, "that's exactly what...no way!"  
"Would you please at least try to be an intelligible human being?" Mamoru quipped, raising his eyebrow in amusement as Usagi dove for her book. "What exactly are you...?"  
"Aha! You!"  
"Yes, me. What about me?"  
Usagi pointed her finger at him and shook it in his face. "You intellectual, self-absorbed men!"  
"Excuse me?"  
"You and Dumblydore--"  
"You mean Dumbledore?"  
"Yes, you know who I mean!"  
"You-Know-Who? Now, I don't know since when Voldemort and I became an item," Mamoru began, "but I resent--"  
"Gah!" Usagi screamed, slamming her copy of Harry Potter down on the table so hard that more than a few customers looked around in alarm. "Listen to me, Mamoru-baka," she went on in a furious whisper, "I don't know what's running through that demented, overinflated, oversized head of yours--"  
"Hey!"  
"--but that is exactly what Dumblydore said when he looked into the mirror--"  
"It's Dumbledore, Odango, and--"  
"See? See!" She threw up her hands. "You're all the same! Men! Always correcting other people, never giving any straight answers, and thinking you're all high and mighty for your little tricks! Well, let me tell you, you're not high and you're not mighty--"  
"It's just a book, Odango, now don't get--" Mamoru began again, shrinking away in embarrassment. "She's had a bit too much sugar," he mouthed at the wary man sitting behind him.  
"I've had enough, and if Dumbly-what's-his-face were here, I'd give both of you a piece of my mind right now--"  
"I think Motoki needs my help...or something," Mamoru muttered as he slid out of the booth and ran for cover across the arcade.  
"--and let me tell you, I don't need a wand to kill!" she shrieked after him. "Mirror of Erised, indeed! Ugh!"  
"Oh, now he comes running," Motoki murmured as soon as he caught ishgt of his dark-haired friend sprinting full-pelt at him. "No need!" he called, "I'm all done with the stock--oomph!"  
"Oops, ah, sorry, Motoki-kun--quick, hide me, she's crazy!"  
"What did you do this time?" he asked, casting a skeptical glance between the brooding blonde in the corner and the disheveled man gasping for breath next to him. "Look, Mamoru, if I've told you once, I've told you a million times that you should at least try to be nice--"  
"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Mamoru panted as he clambered onto his seat. "She thinks all men are egotistical braggarts with metaphorical coals for hearts. Not in those exact words."  
"And let me guess--you're the prime example?"  
"Well," Mamoru said, grabbing a glass of lemonade sitting on the counter and downing it in two gulps, "Apparently she's not too fond of Dumbledore, either, but I think she just holds a general grudge against any man with an IQ high than a lima bean's..."  
"Aha." Motoki raised his eyebrows as he turned to refill the empty glass. "And here I was stupid enough to think that there would be at least one subject safe from your defiling arguments. How did you two manage it this time?"  
Mamoru scoffed as he refilled his glass. "You know her, Motoki. Out of the blue, Odango goes and asks me what I would see if I looked into the Mirror of Erised, and I--"  
"The one from Harry Potter?"  
"Yeah! And I told her I would see myself holding a pair of woolen socks, and--"  
"Do you want woolen socks?" Motoki interrupted. "Because I'd be more than happy to save some money on your next Christmas present if that's all you--"  
"No, that's obviously not what I want!" Mamoru said, banging his fist on the counter and causing Motoki to jump.  
"I don't get it. Then why in the world would you say it?"  
"I...I don't know! I guess I..." Mamoru sighed. "Panicked," he finally finished.  
Motoki shook his head. "Honestly, Mamoru, sometimes even I don't know what goes on inside that head of yours, and I'm your best friend. It's no wonder Usagi feels frustrated."  
"Frustrated. Yeah..." Mamoru repeated as Motoki excused himself to serve a customer.  
'But how do you even begin to tell someone that the one thing you would see if you looked in a magic mirror,' he thought, watching as Usagi flipped through her book with a hopelessly distracted air, 'the one thing you desire most in the world--is the same thing she sees every day in her own reflection'  
"Desire, indeed," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he took another sip of lemonade.

* * *

Author's Note: The original idea began with the concept revolving around the "Mirror of Erised" from the first book of Harry Potter (for those of you who haven't noticed already, "Erised" is "Desire" spelled backwards). It evolved into the drabble you just read--or I hope you just read--but there was a lot of cutting to do, even though it turned out this long in the end; the original draft was around 2000 words long. At any rate, I hope it made sense after all the cuts.  
And no, I don't own Harry Potter any more than I own Sailor Moon. Oh, you thought I owned that, did you? Well, ha! I don't.  
Except Mamoru. Maybe.  
Hope to hear from you soon!  
Ala Verity


	43. Shipwreck

Greetings from the writing board once again!

I just wanted to let you know that, yes, I have been alive (even if you couldn't tell--or were hoping otherwise, in which case, why are you here??) and thank you for all of the kind reviews that the latest chapter of "Notebooks, Not Love Notes" has received! I've only been checking my e-mail and ffnet account sporadically between my dial-up internet and hijacked-computer hours at work, but you guys really are great. Keep the comments and criticism coming (but my tomato-filter is officially working, so beware!

And without further ado/shameless-plugging, here is the next chapter of drabbles! Can you believe we're almost halfway done?

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

43. _Shipwreck_ (Word Count: 697)

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Usagi's toes skimmed the surface of the water as she swung her feet daintily over the edge of the dock.

"I wonder what it's like over there," she sighed aloud, looking out across the fiery waters at a lone island in the middle of the ocean. Then she lapsed back into a thoughtful silence.

Mamoru, who had not spoken to anyone or taken his eyes off of the blonde beauty for the past forty-five minutes, snorted.

"I hope you're planning on going alone," he drawled, sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of his eye.

The comment was enough to snap Usagi out of her blissful reverie. "And why would I do that?" she snapped, whirling on him.

All of their friends turned around eagerly, watching. Nothing quite like a good Usagi-Mamoru tete-a-tete to spice up the quiet afternoon with.

Mamoru smirked, ready to milk the many pairs of eyes watching them for all they were worth. "Because of all the people I'd choose to be stuck on the same island as, you'd be the _very last_."

Her friends watched with bated breaths, handfuls of Yen clutched tightly in their fists behind their backs. Usagi looked around at them all with an air of irony. When she turned to face Mamoru again, she was smiling.

"Really?" she asked, batting her eyes innocently at him.

"What are you, dense?" Mamoru retorted at once, his own swagger faltering for a moment as he caught a whiff of Usagi's unusual confidence. What was she trying to get at? "Yes, really!"

"You wouldn't be caught _dead_ on the same island as me," she repeated.

"That's what I said, Odango. I don't know what you're--"

"Nowhere. On the whole entire island."

"No, I would not for the life of me--"

"And you would rather jump into this water before you would stand on the same island as me."

"Yes!" Mamoru roared, throwing up his hands. "I would strip naked, dance on this dock, and jump into the freezing waters before I was caught on the same island as you! There! I said it! Happy?"

Usagi studied him for a moment, considering. Then a thousand-watt grin lit up her entire face as she bounced to her feet, positively beaming. "Yes, I'm happy," she chirped as she spun around. "You're sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure, you idiot, I--"  
"Then I hope you're prepared to go for a little dip in the water, Mamoru-the-Genius," she sang over her shoulder as she began to skip away. "Because if you haven't figured it out already, Japan _is_ an island."

A deafening silence thundered in her wake, leaving Mamoru looking completely thunderstruck.

The minutes ticked by in total stillness. Nobody moved a muscle.

"Well, er, guess that's that, then," Motoki broke in at last, clapping his hands together and looking around. "Bets in, then, ladies..."

The four girls standing on the dock were brought to life again as they grumped and shuffled up one by one to hand him their money. When they had all slouched away, the blond turned back to Mamoru.

"Bad luck, mate," he consoled his friend, patting him on the shoulder with the hand that was not bursting with his newly-earned cash. "Everyone gets a hit and sink once in a while--I guess this time was just your shipwreck."

Mamoru did not say anything, only gazed broodingly at the island across the water.

"But you know," Motoki continued when his friend did not object, "if you still meant it about jumping into the lake--I mean, if it'll make you feel better, of course...plus we could split the profits fifty-fifty, and I know a lot of girls who would pay good money to see you..." he went on, glancing at the gaggle of girls crowded expectantly behind them.

"Oh, shut, up, Motoki," Mamoru snapped, kicking off his shoes and starting to peel off his shirt. "Just tell Usagi to hurry up and get her butt back here before I have to go get her myself. I'm not putting a skinny-dip to waste just because she's too busy being all high and mighty to come watch."

* * *

And for the record, I did have a fiendishly good time writing that last line and envisioning a butt-naked Mamoru jumping into the water. (Note the strategically-located mention of the word "butt" in the last lines and you'll get a pretty good idea of the lines along which I was thinking...) Muahahaha!

Okay, that's enough for now. And don't forget to read "Notebooks" if it calls out to you!

Ala


	44. Dirty Nails

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

44. _Dirty Nails_ (Word Count: 866)

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"She's been there for over two hours, Motoki! Can't you do _something_ about it?"

"Technically, she's not on arcade property, so no, I can't," the blond explained patiently, watching his agitated friend pace back and forth on the sidewalk. "Since when did it become a crime to sell hot dogs, anyway?"

"Since it was Usagi selling them! Like _that_!" Mamoru snapped under his breath, throwing a furious glare at the unsuspecting girl standing behind the hot dog stand. "What does she think she's playing at, wearing a uniform like _that?_"

"I happen to think she looks pretty good in—"

"_Exactly_!" Mamoru bit out through gritted teeth, turning his icy stare on Motoki for a moment before whipping his head around to look at Usagi again. "And the way she eats those hot dogs, you'd think…you'd think…"

He watched in utter trepidation as Usagi paused and leaned over to whisper something to her friend. They both giggled. Usagi cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him, and Mamoru felt his heart stop for the tiniest fraction of a second.

"Come get your hot dogs while they're steaming hot!" Usagi exclaimed, waving a hot dog at the passerby on the streets. Mamoru felt the maddening urge to leap in front of the booth and demand every last good that she was selling, right down to the ketchup packets.

Instead, he croaked at Motoki, "Oh God. She doesn't have a clue what she's saying, does she?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"It's a sausage-fest in here, folks!"

Mamoru choked.

"—come right up and get your mouthful of meaty sausage!" Usagi sang. "Thank you, sir, for being a great customer of Usagi's Hot Dog Services! Tips are appreciated, but not necessary! Ah, thank you, thank you!"

"Don't tell me you don't see _anything_ wrong with this picture!" Mamoru hissed in a furious whisper, pounding his chest forcefully.

"What? So she's selling—"

"—hot dogs, Motoki. She's advertising 'sausage-fests' and 'customer satisfaction,' and—"

"—free condom-ments! Come get your free condom-ments!"

Mamoru moaned. "Free condiments." He slapped a hand over his eyes and sank down the outer arcade wall. "Tell me I'm having a nightmare, Motoki."

"You're having a nightmare, Motoki."

"Motoki!"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Okay, so Usagi's a little bit naïve…" he began.

"A _little_!" Mamoru exclaimed, jumping angrily to his feet. "She's an innocent angel!"

"Yes, well, as I was saying," Motoki continued, ignoring his friend's outburst, "she may be innocent, but _you_, sir…"

"What? What? I what? Go on!" Mamoru demanded when his friend paused. Motoki hesitated, trying to decide if it was worth being killed over, and then decided that it was. He grinned devilishly.

"If I didn't know better, you, Chiba Mamoru, with all your talk of hot dogs and sausage-fests and _condom_-ments and whatnot—"

"I _what_?" the dark-haired man exploded, just as Usagi turned around.

"—I'd say that the only dirty thing about you is your—"

"—_nails!_" Mamoru blurted out, gaping at Usagi in horror.

"…Nails?"

Mamoru let out a bark of forced laughter. "Oh, Motoki-kun, you! You didn't have to hide what you thought of my _dirty nails_," he repeated in a loud voice, staring at Usagi as he stressed the last two words.

"Okay, you're scaring me…" Motoki said, backing away slowly.

"Well, righto you are, Motoki!" Mamoru laughed, pounding his friend forcefully on the back. "Never one to ignore advice from a friend, me! I'm going to get these dirty nails cleaned right away! Come on! Let's…_go!_"

And grabbing his friend roughly by the arm, Mamoru dragged Motoki into the arcade, muttering furiously all the way.

"What's gotten into _Mamoru_?" Minako asked Usagi the moment the door closed behind them. "Er…Usagi-chan? You okay?"

"Yeah. Great. Just great," Usagi moaned, burying her face in her hands.

"Then why do you look like a car just ran over Luna? Well, not that you'd be too disappointed if that happened, but theoretically speaking…"

Usagi threw her hands up in frustration. "Because he's never going to notice! No matter what I do or how long I sit out here, Mamoru is _never…going…to notice me!_" She threw the last packet of ketchup onto the ground.

"Now, now…" Minako said in a soothing voice, picking up the ketchup packet and dusting it off. "I'm sure he noticed _something_."

Usagi shook her head frantically. "No! He couldn't have! And he never will! I've been out here for two hours trying to get his attention, wearing this stupid skimpy outfit we borrowed from the cosplay shop! I even used the line about the stupid 'condom-ments!' I've been bending over backwards trying to get his attention, and he's never going to even know, because he doesn't think of me that way! He has the absolutely cleanest, cleanest mind in the history of the world!" she finished, flinging her hand dramatically to her forehead.

Minako raised her eyebrow. "And what, exactly, gave you that impression?"

"Because!" Usagi moaned. "You heard what Motoki said! The only dirty thing about Mamoru—"

"Uh…Usagi-chan?"

"—is his nails!"

Minako slapped her hand to her face. "Maybe you should give it up—you two really _are_ hopeless."


	45. Cape

The 3rd Anniversary drabble challenge at LJ's usako underscore mamoru community has begun, so don't forget to look out for those drabbles coming soon! They will be listed under another story title (probably something equally unoriginal as the last two drabble sets' names, so if there's a big bad bland one out there, that's probably mine).

And as always, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this one--I particularly enjoyed writing it!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

45. _Cape_ (Word Count: 617)

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Most people think that just because I'm a masked caperer whose alter-ego spends all his time saving long-legged hot super-heroines, I don't hear the latest gossip. Well, think again. Do you really think that I could have possibly missed that twenty-foot billboard outside of the Crown with my image splashed across it with the caption, "CAPE BOY—IS HE DRAB OR FAB?"? Or avoided the cover-page exclusives in all 52 Tokyo newspapers on the very same subject? I'm Tuxedo Mask, for crying out loud! And I don't just "miss" things.

Recently, the tabloids have been yakking up a whirlwind about my wardrobe choices. Tux, top hat, gloves—the whole shebang. But what they're _really_ harping on about is the cape.

Don't believe it? Well, join the club. I mean, have they seen that thing up close? Not a dent, not even when I did hand-to-hand combat with the youma that killed Chuck Norris. So it's easy to see why I didn't believe it at first. That is, not until I woke up to a scathing letter on my desk yesterday morning.

It was addressed to "The Masked Man Who Should Be Wearing Spandex"—Velma's signature. You know the one: that sassy costume designer from the Incredibles. Great movie; you should watch it if you haven't.

Anyway, the letter lasted 41 pages, with a blaring salutation of "Greetings, Future Spandex Boy!" emblazoned across the first margin. The next 40-odd pages listed the interesting (and somewhat gruesome) deaths of some 1,574 cape-sporting superheroes. I won't bore you with the details, except to tell you that we're all probably better off without The Mighty Mold-Meister. At least your cheese and toilet bowl will be safe.

And at the very bottom of the forty-first page, squeezed so small I had to bring it to my lab at school and run it under a microscope, was a postscript:

_Stop being Cape Boy. Ditch the cape._

Okay, I admit it: I had my doubts when I read those last words. "Cape Boy." I can't _stand _that label! You can't imagine how annoying it gets when you're just about to blast a youma to smithereens with your cane, when they suddenly turn on you like you're a piece of particularly juicy tri-tip steak and leer, "C'mere, Cape Boy. It throws me off every time. Of course, that's why I mostly just let Sailor Moon take care of the moon-dusting nowadays; out of sight and out of lust, I always say.

That's also why I was so ready to dump the entire costume as soon as the talk about my cape started. Not that I envy what the Senshi have to wear or anything (although I wouldn't let them give it up for the world…have you _seen_ them in those miniskirts?), but my outfit's not exactly made of fleece, flannel, or fluff either.

That is, I was ready—until last night.

It was 7:45 PM when the wave hit me—my stomach started feeling queasy, the room started spinning, and my vision wouldn't straighten itself out until I was literally speeding across the rooftops of Tokyo, somehow already dressed in formalwear. By the time I arrived on the scene, the girls were already there, fighting a nasty-looking youma that spurted something that looked like Jell-O gone bad. I waited, as I always do, until the moment when Sailor Moon miscalculated; the blood pounded in my ears and suddenly I was over her on the ground, protecting both of us from the vile goo with my cape. And as the youma continued to bombard the impenetrable fabric with its thick slime, something happened that nearly melted me from inside out.

It wasn't the corrosive acid goo, either.

Sailor Moon looked up at me with those blue doe's eyes that I could just drown in and uttered something that would change everything.

"I like your cape," she whispered to me, smiling.

The next day, I sat down and scribbled down a quick reply to the letter I had received before. Then I made two copies—one for the press, another for special delivery to Velma. It contained only three words:

_The cape stays_.


	46. Time

Hi, dear readers!

It's been so busy lately that I know there has not been a lot in the way of updates, but I'm glad to be back here again! I got this idea just last night and wrote it up while I was connected to the wireless, so we'll see how it fares under your excellent scrutiny.

In the meantime, if you're ever bored (chances of more updates for this set of drabbles will probably be slim at best for the next few weeks), I'd suggest checking out the Livejournal community named usako underscore mamoru, which is the lovely LJ site dedicated to our favorite couple and the origin of these drabble themes. There is voting going on over there right now, and I have 14 completely new and unposted drabbles there, in a pool of many many other great submissions as well! Check it out!

And now, without further adieu, I invite you to read this new, slightly different drabble—but I'll let you read and decide for yourself.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

46. _Time_ (Word Count: 690)

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He had fought youma. He had defeated evil forces. In those days, he had even fought his wife—and won, in a manner of speaking. But if there was one thing Mamoru had learned from all his years of experience, it was that there was one thing he could never fight—that nobody could ever fight—and that was time.

Sometimes, when he sat on the back porch overlooking their garden on evenings like this, he wondered how much longer he would have to go on like this. He had long surpassed those golden years when running around the world saving the universe seemed like second nature; those days now belonged to their grandchildren and, he remembered now, the great-grandchild who would be arriving early next month. He knew that it would be centuries—perhaps millennia—before their spirits were revived and he and Usagi ascended the throne as rulers of a new age. The world that they had fought for, the universe that they most loved, they had given to the new generations for safekeeping.

And yet, he was tired. Mamoru was growing old; he could feel it in the sharp stabs of pain that woke him in the early morning and forced him out of bed, to hobble down the stairs and refill his hot water bottle. He could feel it in the way he sat in the same wooden chair on their porch like those old men from the movies and clung to memories of times long gone. And he could feel it most of all in the way that he sat helplessly by while the people he loved most, those people he had fought everything but time for, slowly moved on and faded away.

The wooden chair underneath him seemed to sigh as he rose from it, looking out over the rose garden which glowed like so many hot coals under the blazing rays of the setting sun. Time would wait for no one, only left them scrambling after it in the dust.

Mamoru had just turned to go back inside when the screen door creaked open. Usagi appeared in the doorway, wearing a faded pink bandana over her graying hair and carrying a tray.

"I thought you might like some watermelon," she said, smiling at him. She stepped carefully down onto the porch and then paused, struggling to close the door behind her. Mamoru walked to her side and took the tray from her, grasped her hand in his, and led her without a word to her chair.

"Thank you," she said at last when they were seated side by side on the porch. She closed her eyes for a moment, and the rays from the fading sun seemed to light up her entire face, smoothing over some of the marks that time had worn over her features. When he placed his hands over hers, however, she opened her eyes again and smiled.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Mamo-chan."

His hand gently squeezed hers. "Me too."

"Sometimes…I think I'm tired. We're not so young anymore."

"I know."

"Thank you, Mamo-chan."

"No…Thank _you_, Usako."

"For what?"

"For…everything. For staying with me. For choosing me." He paused, then smiled and asked, "Do you want to take a walk?"

"It's getting dark, maybe we should—"

"Just a turn around the garden, I promise." He laughed as he rose slowly to his feet. "I probably couldn't walk more than a kilometer with knees like mine now anyway."

Usagi laughed, too, and took his offered hand. "No, you're probably right."

"Are you ready?"

"As ready as I will ever be."

"Then let's go."

He grasped his wife tightly by the hand, and together they made their way carefully down the steps and into the sun-gilded garden.

True, it was not possible for him to fight time, and at some point time would overtake him and leave him behind. But once in a while, if you were lucky enough, you got to take time by the hand and walk side by side into the glowing sunset, forgetting everything except the moment you lived in right now.

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An Author's Note behind this drabble: I really thought that Mamoru and Usagi deserved a more introspective look at their life after their budding romance and even beyond their past and future lives. Getting to see them in their aging years, to me, serves as a reminder that their love is pure not only because of their ability to see the good in one another and the world around them in periods of turmoil and trial, but also to sustain that love even during times when there is nothing left to test them but time itself.

I hope you all enjoyed it!

Cheers from the writing board,

Ala


	47. Broken Glass

Hey all!

So, it's been a while…

However, I just got back from Australia (Aussie-land!! Of the koalas and the kangaroos!) and I had an _amazing_ time, plus I actually did work on these drabbles on that blessed island, so no complaints! And if anybody wants to just talk and gush about their Australia experience (I know I'm dying to!), or whatever it is that they've done this summer/winter vacation, please come find me! Otherwise I might explode from non-gushing.

On with the drabbling!

Note: The references to bad luck here are 1) Breaking a mirror will lead to seven years of bad luck, and 2) Never walk under a ladder, or that's bad luck as well. Hope that doesn't spoil much. Cheers!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

47. _Broken Glass_ (Word Count: 876)

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"I…I was just washing my hands in the bathroom when I hit the soap holder and it fell and hit the sink pipe and that burst and the water was everywhere and I slipped and fell and I broke your mirror!" Usagi wailed, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she held up the shard of broken glass for Motoki to see. "And now I'm going to have seven years of bad luck and end up an old lady who lives all alone in her house with fifteen cats because every man who I ever meet will either be married or have lots of illegitimate children!"

"I think you can manage all that on your own, with or without bad luck," a sardonic voice observed.

"Mamoru!" Motoki said sharply, but the damage had already been done. Usagi whirled around on the young man sitting at the counter next to her, who had remained silent up until that moment, and then she bolted out of the arcade with a terrified look, leaving her backpack on the seat behind her.

"Can't you at least _try_ to be nice?" Motoki demanded when she had disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

Mamoru shrugged. "She's too sensitive. She had that one coming, anyway."

"Yeah, well, somehow I don't think she feels quite the same way about that. Now you'll excuse me if I don't have much sympathy for you, but if you don't intend to make it up to her, then I'm going to go clean up."

At Motoki's words, Mamoru felt a familiar twinge of guilt. Of course he had been horribly unfair to her. It always happened that way; he got tongue-tied in front of her and the words simply came out all wrong.

"Hang on a sec…" he muttered to himself as Motoki went to get a dustpan. An idea had occurred to him. "Motoki?" he asked, straightening up suddenly in his seat.

"Hm?"

"I think I've figured out a way."

"A way to what?"

"A way to make it up to her. Do you think I could get that dustpan from you?"

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When Usagi entered the arcade the next day, it was with a long list of bad luck already piled up against her. She had forgotten her backpack at the arcade the night before, and by the time she realized it was missing it was already too late to retrieve it. Anyway, she had not wanted to risk running into Mamoru, so she had not been able to do her homework and ended up with a double-detention. Now, as she entered the arcade, she could see that her luck was only turning from bad to worse: her backpack was still sitting on the same seat she had left it at, and sitting right next to it was none other than Mamoru himself.

She was tempted to spin around and walk right back out again, but then she decided that if she had to face him at some point or another, it was better sooner than later. So squaring her shoulders, Usagi strode right through the automatic double-doors, marched up to her seat, and sat down.

Next to her, Mamoru flipped a page in his book and continued reading.

Usagi took a deep breath to calm herself. It was better this way, anyway. As long as they continued to ignore one another, she could avoid any messy confrontations that would otherwise ensue if they were to speak.

With this slightly sordid thought, she unzipped her bag, when a crackling noise coming from inside made her pause. She reached inside the bag and pulled out an unfamiliar brown package.

Usagi frowned as she stared at the wrapping. Had someone put it in the wrong bag by mistake?

She looked closer and blinked. No, it was no mistake. She could see that her name was written in neat letters on the brown wrapping. But who would give her a present in the middle of April?

Laying the heavy object on the counter, she carefully peeled back the tape and unwrapped the package.

A shiny glitter twinkled under the florescent lighting as soon as the paper fell away from the object inside. She found herself staring at bits of broken mirror of every shape and size, which had been painted every color imaginable—magenta, turquoise, emerald, gold—so that they shimmered cheerfully up at her, neither opaque nor completely transparent. Inside the stone border framing the mosaic, there was a handwritten note:

_Even something beautiful can be made out of a bad thing, if you want it to be. I'm sorry._

A slow smile crept across Usagi's face as she lifted the mosaic, running her fingers lightly over the shimmering glass fragments. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a pair of striking blue eyes watching her. Then she rewrapped the pane and tucked it carefully away in her backpack again, unable to suppress the small giggle that escaped her lips as she turned away. If this was the sort of bad luck that she could come to expect every time she did something unlucky, then she definitely knew of a few ladders that she could pass under on her way home.

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	48. Rosebud

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

48. _Rosebud _(Word Count: 510)

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"In _Romance of the Rose_, the rosebud signifies a woman's virginity. Specifically, Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun use it in their poem to represent the speaker's pursuit of a desired 'rose'; otherwise, a sexual pursuit. More generally, however, the rosebud can be associated with any number of things, ranging from purity and innocence to a budding love."

Usagi nodded, flushing in spite the cool breeze sweeping through the arcade. "Okay. I think I get it."

"Good. Now it's my turn to ask a question."

"What?"

Mamoru leaned over the table, an amused gleam dancing in his eyes. "Why the sudden curiosity? You never ask me about anything, let alone literary symbolism. What's so special about a rosebud, hm?"

"I—no, it's nothing!" she squeaked, her fingers slipping subcnosciously into her right pocket. Why _had_ she come to ask the baka, anyway?

_Tuxedo Kamen's cape fluttered in the cool night air as he stood in front of her._

"_Sailor Moon," he murmured in a deep voice that sent shivers down her spine._

"_Y-yes?"_

"_You fought well today." He took a step forward so that the streetlight was shining on his darkened face now._

"_Thank you," she whispered._

"_I just wanted to let you know…" He hesitated, then reached a gloved hand into his jacket pocket and pulled something out._

"_I'll wait for you. I always have."_

_She blinked, and he was gone._

_She looked all around her, but her eyes were met with nothing but the shadows of the leaning trees in the darkened park. Finally, she looked down, uncurling her fingers to see what he had given her._

_Light pink petals in a tight bundle._

_A rosebud._

"So…?"

Usagi blinked as the voice interrupted her daydreams of the night before. She looked up, startled, to find Mamoru with his head propped casually on his chin, his eyes flickering in faint amusement between her face and her hand. She realized with a jolt that Mamoru might not simply have a guess.

He _knew._

Of course, _that_ was precisely why she had come to ask him. She always felt that he knew much more than he let on.

Nevertheless, Usagi pulled her telltale fingers hastily out of her pocket. "N-nothing! It's nothing!" she squealed, swigging down a gulp of soda and nearly choking.

She could feel Mamoru's eyes on her long after she had finished coughing, and it was only with the most tremulous excuses that she managed to slip away from his penetrating gaze.

_N-no way!_ she thought to herself as she hurried away from the booth with her hand in her pocket again, shaking her head. _There's no way he knows _exactly_—and the rosebud, it couldn't possibly mean…_

Usagi could feel the heat rush to her face as sudden thought occurred to her, and she quickly withdrew her hand from her pocket again.

_Oh, _she thought with a scowl as she scurried along the sidewalk and away from the young man sitting inside the arcade,_ what the hell would Tuxedo Kamen know about early French literature anyway?_

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	49. A Familiar Song

As I'm typing these very words, _Dabbling in Heartwarming Drabbles_ has hit the 300-review landmark! I just wanted to give a big shout-out thank you to all of you for always making my day with your comments and feedback; I hope these short stories can do even a little to return the favor.

A special thanks to Sol Y Sombra, who always makes sure that my writing butt is in gear through her wonderful e-mails (make sure you nag her to finish her stories, too! ^~ They're fab!). And an especially great big thank you to BloomAmber, CharmedSerenity, sailorjupiterox, Eternia, some of the BEST gals out there for always always leaving comments. And of course, an enormous thanks to everyone else out there who has ever taken the time out of their busy schedules to review—you know who you are! (And you're amazing.)

Onward with the drabble! And this whole thing's almost halfway done, can you believe it??

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

49. _A Familiar Song _(Word Count: 830)

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They were eating lunch at a roadside diner when a song came onto the radio. And not just any song.

_Her_ song.

"Mamo-chan!" Usagi screamed, jumping up from her red plastic seat and grabbing her husband's arm. "Mamo-chan, it's my song!"

"Usako, please—" Mamoru began, looking around nervously.

"Shh! _Listen!_"

They both listened as the tune rumbled over the diner's radio speakers, growing steadily louder in the silence.

_Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight_—

"I never run from a real fight," Usagi sang loudly. "I am the one named—"

"Usako!"

"What?" The fork that Usagi had been belting into clanked noisily onto the table as Usagi turned to look at her husband, who was gazing sternly at her. "What?" she repeated, looking around. "What did I do?"

"What did we say about singing in the first person to the Sailor Moon theme song?" he asked in a stern voice that he usually reserved for Chibi-Usa, but which was now apparently better suited for her mother.

A look of recognition clicked on Usagi's face, and her face went glum as she muttered something inaudible.

"What was that?"

"I promise I won't sing the Sailor Moon theme song in first person in public places," she grumbled under her breath, grabbing her fork and stabbing it into her meatloaf.

"That's right. We can sing it when we get home," Mamoru added kindly.

It was at that moment, however, that a plump child sitting at the table behind them said to his mother at the top of his voice, "This song sounds familiar, Mum! What is it?"

Usagi stopped picking at her meal and perked her ears instantly.

"I don't know," the mother replied in a matter-of-fact voice, and Mamoru felt Usagi stiffen next to him. "It sounds like an awfully stupid song, though, if you ask me. Probably some nursery rhyme for infants or something. Never you mind, Willy dearest, it's of no importance."

_She will never turn her back on her friends, she is always there to defend—!_

Poor Mamoru could not have done a single thing to prevent it. After all, this was simply not the sort of thing you said in front of a woman who had saved the entire universal from evil and was perfectly capable of moon-dusting your kid before you could say "Fat Willy."

"A _stupid song?_" Usagi screeched, leaping out of Mamoru's reach and landing on the next table with such voracity that he was surprised the shocked lady had not had a heart attack. "A stupid song, is that what you think it is? _That's Sailor Moon, you old hag, _and she could moon-dust you so fast that your overweight baby whale of a kid here couldn't even say 'mommy'—"

"Help!" the lady shrieked as she jumped away from Usagi's outstretched fingers, which were reaching for her rotund neck. "She's crazy! Help!"

"Say that it's not a stupid song!" Usagi growled, grabbing a steak knife and scrabbling over the table at the lady.

"Usako, stop it!" Mamoru yelled, regaining his senses and scrambling to his feet. "It's just a song!"

"Eek!" the lady yelped, ducking under a counter as the steak knife soared over her head.

"I want my daddy!" the fat kid wailed boisterously below them.

"Gotcha!" Mamoru exclaimed as he tackled his wife to the floor.

"Say that it's not stupid!" Usagi roared, trying to bite and claw out of Mamoru's vice-grip.

"Somebody get that girl in a straightjacket!" the lady shrieked, pointing at Usagi.

"Don't talk about my wife that way!" Mamoru snapped, coming very close to taking a chunk out of the woman himself.

"I'm not just any girl—I'm Sailor Moon, and I'm going to _kick your butt, lady!_"

_She is the one named Sailor Moon—_

"Excuse me, sir," a timid-looking waiter interjected, shuffling up to them, "but you'll need to pay for the damages that your wife has incurred to the diner—"

"_Shut up!_" everyone shouted.

"I am going to sue you and your little Moonie asses off, buster!" the mother screamed hysterically.

"Yeah, well, let's just see you _try!_" Usagi roared. "Kid, your mother is an imbecile! And that song sounds familiar because it is _great!_"

"Is that true? _Mum!_"

"_Willy!_"

"_Idiot!"_

"_Sir!"_

"_Son of a—"_

_SHE IS THE ONE, SAILOR MOON!_

"Okay, that's enough!" he roared over the clamorous uproar, throwing a thousand-yen bill onto the crumbling table and heaving his kicking wife with an air of finality into his arms. "Please excuse my wife, everyone, she's an avid Sailor Moon fan!"

Behind them, the child burst into tears and the remaining customers applauded like spectators at a circus and the manager wept sadly next to the decapitated tables and the mother made a very rude, single-fingered gesture at their retreating backs while the final strains of music ushered the pair noisily out of the diner, with Usagi's shrill voice shrieking in the distance, "_It's familiar because it's GREAT!"_

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	50. Advertisement

Author's Note 1: This one is actually my longest to date, but if you bear with it, you might actually find that it's not a waste of time; at least, I hope not. I had fun writing it. Or maybe you will. That's completely up to you. I don't know if it actually counts as a drabble at this point, but that's up to you, too.

Author's Note 2: I'm not sure if fanfiction dot net allows e-mail address formats, so I wrote these in another format just to be safe, but the original version of this drabble has the links written as real links, not these shoddy "blank UNDERSCORE blank AT blank DOT com" things. Just wanted to put that out there! Enjoy!

Author's Note 3: This is drabble #50 ;) Thanks for sticking it out—I'm halfway done with the challenge!

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_100 Themed Drabbles_

_Ala Verity_

_50. Advertisement (Word Count: 1,479)_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Tokyo Daily Classified Listings_

_1 August 2009:_

_Young man seeking eligible woman. Charismatic, charming partner for a lady who likes to laugh and have a good time. To contact, please send name, contact information, and brief message of interest to "chi underscore bam at juubanuniversity dot edu."_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Welcome back, chi underscore bam._

_Inbox_

_1 new message_

Subject:_ You have received a reply to an advertisement you placed in the Tokyo Daily Classified Listings._

Message: _If you are so charismatic and charming, then why place an advertisement in the newspaper? The irony of it all made me laugh so much that I had to reply._

_Sincerely,_

_A lady who likes to laugh and have a good time_

_"dangodango at hotmail dot com"_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Hello, dangodango! You have one new message waiting for you._

Subject: _Charmed, I'm sure._

Chi_bam says:_ Sometimes even charismatic, charming men need to exhaust all possible avenues. I must admit, however, that your blatant skepticism intrigues me. Do you have a name, Lady Who Likes To Laugh? _

_Hoping you are well,_

_The Not-So-Charismatic But Thoroughly Charming Man_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Several, each as unflattering as the next, and one by which this e-mail account was inspired. Can you guess it?_

_Speaking of which, what sort of a person posts a classified ad without revealing their own identity but expects an innocent responder to do so? Do you really think that hiding behind a mask will make you more mysterious, and therefore more appealing?_

_- A dubious girl who will remain nameless for now_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Dear Skeptic,_

_As strange as this might sound, that has been my experience exactly. You would be surprised to find how much a hidden identity can work in your favor. _

_The entire world is at your fingertips—you can escape without a care in the world, and nobody but you will ever know what you have accomplished or done. You are free to do as you wish. In the end, others look up to you, because you could be anyone or anything. It is an amazing feeling, and I would not trade it for anything in the world, except maybe to hear a bit more about your identity now that I have revealed a sliver of my own._

_Of course, you would not know—or do you? Somehow, I feel like you know much more than you let on in your letters. You remind me of someone I know._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_The Masked Man_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_If that is what you call a revelation, then here is mine:_

_I agree that escaping into a world of your own from time to time can be liberating—and I smile at how blithely unaware (I hope I am using that right—that's the phrase my friend uses every time I make a mistake) you are of just how deeply your statements resonate with my own. However, I don't believe that trading identities should be used only for our own ends. If our decisions do not affect others for the better, then what is the point?_

_Awaiting your answer,_

_An Eager Philosopher_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_My Dearest Philanthropist,_

_I am sorry if I offended you in my last message. What I meant was that by maintaining a secret identity of sorts, you can make changes happen without having to worry about the prying eyes of everyone else around you. Each decision is solely your own to make, but every single one is also ultimately made in the hopes of bettering humanity._

_To use an example, I am currently sitting here at my computer screen typing these words. You have no idea who I might be, and yet you have chosen to continue our conversation when you could have very easily ended it at any time. Do you not believe that there might be something inspiring about the idea of remaining anonymous? I think mystery intrigues, and that is why we are still in touch._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Dear Mystery Man,_

_Do you like playing God?_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Evidently, and evidently very poorly. If I was really God and could do as I pleased, I would have made you reveal your identity by now instead of having to guess at these riddles; or, rather, I would already know without asking._

_But I am not God and that, I suppose, will have to wait._

_Speaking of which, you mentioned in one of your first messages that your account was inspired by one of your nicknames. I think I have a guess, even if it's only a mortal one. May I try?_

_Loyally yours,_

_God_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Dear God,_

_You can try, but I won't guarantee anything. If it's mystery that intrigues you, why should I dispel it so soon?_

_You also said that you await my replies more eagerly than almost anything. What is "anything?"_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_You may not remember, but I mentioned once that you reminded me of somebody. She is that "anything"—or, rather, "everything." To be honest (and I feel that I can be with you), she was the one who prompted me to place this advertisement in the paper. I was hoping to find a friend, or a distraction, or something else to keep my mind off of her—but I have found you, and now, after two weeks, I feel that I have found something much more._

_I hope my saying this does not offend you in any way, but I've come to find myself thinking of you more and more often as a confidante of sorts. Would you like to meet?_

_Yours truly,_

_A Hopeful Confider_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_You have more power than you imagine. Where, and when?_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_The Crown Arcade, 2 PM tomorrow._

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Mamoru had barely clicked the _Sent_ button when a sudden thought occurred to him, and he realized that he could not meet her without confessing this one detail to her first. Panicking, he began typing frantically into the empty box again before he could lose his nerve completely.

_P.S. There's one more thing you should know before we meet, if that happens after you have read this postscript._

_I think that I've grown to like you. I might even love you._

_It sounds crazy, I know, to say this after three weeks of conversation. But I can't help it._

_You've heard me say that you remind me of someone, that I care for her. That is still true, and you need to know that._

_However, I cannot help but feel that if I were to meet you in person, I might fall madly, deeply in love with you, and you need to know that, too._

_I've become enamored with you. I feel affection; no, more than affection. I feel endearing. Protective. Caring. Hopeful. I feel as if I know you, in more than one way and not just through a computer screen. When I talk to you, I feel inspired and I feel as if you understand me. You remind me of her, but in a way that I never experienced, because I was an idiot and threw it all away before I had a chance to live it. I have fallen for you and I am truly, madly, deeply, genuinely—_

A message box popped up even as Mamoru typed.

_Ding!_

The red letters flashed on his screen. Mamoru frowned as he read it.

_You have one new message._

Feeling slightly irritated, Mamoru clicked on the Save Drafts button. Then he clicked the link on the notification and waited impatiently for his inbox to load.

When the page refreshed, there was an untitled message sitting in his inbox. He started to move it to the trash bin, thinking it was spam mail, but something made him hesitate. Finally, he clicked on the _No Subject _title and waited for the e-mail to load.

There was no signature, and the message was only five words long:

_You had her at "hello."_

Before he even had a chance to close the window, a second message notification popped up. He clicked it hastily. It was almost as short as the first:

_P.S. Your postscript is getting really long._

He glanced up quickly from his laptop around the arcade, his heart pounding as he searched for a pair of eyes or a turned face. The only person he saw, however, was Usagi, sitting behind one of the wireless internet computers and wearing a small smile as she continued to stare at her screen.

Mamoru felt a grin creep across his face as he deleted his previous message and quickly typed something into the empty composition box. Then he clicked the send button, rose briskly to his feet, and strode with a look of determination over to where Usagi was still seated at her computer.

Beneath the words _message sent_, a single sentence flashed on the screen behind him:

_By the time you get this message, I'll already be kissing you._

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Worth it? Not? Liked it? Didn't? I'm always up for constructive criticism and feedback. So don't hesitate to give it!


	51. Lightning

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

51. _Lightning_ (Word Count: 626)

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There were three things that Usagi was notoriously afraid of: lightning, dark, and Mamoru. And they were all happening to her—

_Boom!_

—at the same time.

"_Where's the light?_" Usagi yelled, her hands scrabbling blindly in the dark room for purchase. She stubbed her fingers against something solid and muttered furiously under her breath. "What are you doing in there, baka, _having a baby?_" she screeched when no reply came from the back room.

"I'm here—and no, I'm only _eight_ months along, not nine," a voice growled through the darkness. A flame lit up and Usagi squinted to see Mamoru standing in front of her, holding a withered candle and looking more than a bit peeved. Truth be told, he was actually very glad to be stuck with her like this—in fact, he had wished for quite similar occurrences to happen on more than one occasion—but when Usagi got scared, she also got a little…

"…You're pregnant?"

"It was a _joke_."

"Oh. Right."

…irrational.

A blinding strike of lightning flashed, setting the whole sky on fire. There was a squeal of fright as it illuminated the entire room—long enough for Mamoru to glimpse a blur of motion hurtling at him—and _boom! _No, not the sound of thunder this time; it was the sound Mamoru made when he crashed very gracelessly onto the linoleum floor, cursing Motoki for not upgrading to carpet the entire way down.

"_B-baka!_" Usagi's voice shrieked again, much closer to his ear this time.

"What? It's not like—" He groaned, trying to remove the constricting pressure weighing down on his chest. It clung stubbornly to him. "It's not like I _asked_ for this!" he gasped at last, letting his arms flop to his sides and deciding to at least relish the moment of close contact before he died of asphyxiation.

"I don't care! _Do something!"_

Mamoru was very tempted to take her command literally and simply kiss the living daylights out of her until she forgot all about the storm when something flickered on with a faint buzzing sound, and an incredulous voice floated through the now-lit room.

"Usagi…? _Mamoru?_" There was a pause. "What are you two doing on the floor?"

_On top of one another? Hm, Mamoru?_ the snide voice no doubt would have added if Mamoru had not immediately given himself a mental kick and regained his senses.

"Moment of weakness," Mamoru muttered, getting hastily to his feet—and wrenching poor, frightened, oblivious Usagi up with him. "I mean, Odango here was scared of the lightning," he announced, brushing off his jacket as if nothing more had happened than a pin dropping to the floor.

"H-Hey! You were the one who dropped the candle!"

"Only _after_ you tackled me. And you were the one who wanted the candle in the first place instead of just turning on the lights!"

"All right, cut it out, you two!" Motoki interrupted, shoving a box of popcorn at each of them with a scowl. "Honestly!" he muttered to himself as he wound his way through the chairs that had been set up in front of the still-flashing television. "You're the only ones I know who could make a steamy love scene out of _Twister_ in the _two minutes_ I was gone."

At Motoki's last comment, both of them blushed—so furiously, in fact, that even Usagi would have given anything for it to be dark again. Of course, that was only one of two fears that she suddenly wished she had in her possession.

After all, she thought, grinning to herself as she watched a pink-faced Mamoru took his seat next to Motoki once again, her instincts hadn't screamed at her to knock out that candle for nothing.

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	52. Protector

I know, somebody's going to either have a heart attack from this onslaught of updates or wish that I have a heart attack so that I will stop darn flooding their inbox with alerts (probably the hundred-odd people who subscribed and now wish they hadn't, heh). Oh, well. I'm ready for them tomatoes! Bring it on!

And thanks as always to all of you wonderful people who take my sporadic updating in stride!

Warning (or incentive, depends on you…wink!): Some adult allusions ahead!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

52. _Protector_ (Word Count: 503)

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"Mamo-chan?"

"Hmm?"

Usagi waited until her husband's lips ceased their untiring nibbling on her neck.

"What is it, Usako?" Mamoru groaned at last, his fingers playing longingly across her bare shoulders as he let his lips slide a centimeter or so away from their quarry.

"You know how you always say that you're my protector?"

"Yeah?" His eyes roved over his wife's slender, modestly-covered body, and he couldn't help adding with a wicked smile, "Is this conversation going to take very long? Because I'm kind of in a mood, and I don't know how long it's going to last—"

"_Mamo-chan!"_

"Okay, fine, fine." Mamoru held up his hands in surrender. "Your turn. I'm all ears."

Usagi had just opened her mouth to speak, however, when Mamoru stole a quick kiss and pulled away again, grinning. "Did I mention I'm also all lips?"

The blonde groaned and rolled away from her lusty husband. "Mamo-chan, this is serious!"

"Okay, yes, I'm sorry." He did not sound sorry at all. There was a pause in which he at least seemed to _consider_ acting penitent. "So…what did you want to say?"

Usagi harrumphed, but she rolled over again to face him anyway, pouting.

"You know how you always say that you'll be my protector?" she asked again.

"Yeah. Sure."

"Well…don't get me wrong, it's nice and all that you're _my_ protector…but Mamo-chan, who's _your_ protector?"

Mamoru seemed to consider her question for a second, before a wicked grin split across his face.

"My protector?"

"Yes!"

"You sure you want to know?"

"I want to know. _I_, unlike you, can think of other things besides sex."

Mamoru's fingers traced a thoughtful line across Usagi's jaw, and then he rolled abruptly over onto the other side of the bed and grabbed something that she could not see from the bedside table.

"_This _is my protector."

And he shook the neatly-wrapped little square package in his very scandalized wife's face.

"M-Mamo-chan! You—"

"Kidding! Just kidding."

Usagi fanned the heat from her flushed face with the linen sheets. "You'd better be, you dirty—"

"You see, the thing is," Mamoru interrupted in a conspiratorial whisper, his face suddenly so close to Usagi's that she could have counted the number of eyelashes on each eye, "I don't need _my_ protector for what we're about to do. But I know you need _yours_." And he placed a hot hand on her bare stomach.

A low moan rang throughout the bedroom as Usagi finally gave in and wrapped her hands lustily around Mamoru's neck, pulling him against her. He obliged all too readily, letting the tiny package flutter unnoticed to the carpet.

"What was that about only men having sex drives?" Mamoru murmured in amusement as Usagi ran her hands hungrily up and down his back.

"Oh, shut up," she managed to gasp between their heated kisses, "I don't need protection from you either."

Mamoru felt himself blush in spite of himself.

Well, it was true. They had to have Chibi-Usa _sometime_.

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	53. Giddy

First day of school was _insane_. Mind-blow, all the way.

Just putting that out there. You know, just saying.

And thank you, you awesome readers, for always making my day! I hope you have a fabulous one as well, as I'm rather fond of this one (if I may say so myself)…

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

53. _Giddy_ (Word Count: 446)

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Technically speaking, Mamoru was not on any type of pharmaceutical whatsoever, even though it might have been said that he was high—high off love, that is.

"She kissed me," he moaned to his friend, burying his face in his arms and wriggling a little bit in his seat like a bad drunk. "Oh my _god_, she kissed me!"

This act was far from new in Motoki's book, considering how Mamoru had been saying the same thing over and over for the past three hours. However, just when he suspected that his friend had run out of ways to act—well, _giddy_ was the only word for it, the dark-haired man found new ways to surprise him.

He drummed his fingers on the countertop.

He hummed a tune that sounded suspiciously like Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On."

He sighed.

He smiled dreamily at customers he did not know and was either hit on as a result (to Mamoru's indignation and Motoki's eternal amusement) or had his head stuffed into a trash can.

He stroked random objects, including the salt shakers.

He giggled.

Once in a while, he would look up as if he had only just realized that Motoki was standing there and say in a hoarse voice filled with wonder, "She picked _me_, Motoki. Can you believe it? _Me!_"

And the arcade manager would half-listen as he filled coffee cups for the morning rush and reply, "Mhm."

"She kissed me and said, 'I'm so lucky,'" the young man sighed, casting a dreamy far-off look that earned him a dirty glare from a couple sitting in the corner booth.

It was times like these, as he put on the lid and strove to ignore his dazed friend, that Motoki did not know quite whether to feel exasperated or impressed.

"Oh my _god_." Mamoru pushed off the counter and spun around on his red stool, kicking his feet in the air, a blissful smile on his face. "Oh my _god_."

It was the fact that the same thing had happened every morning for the past four years since Mamoru and Usagi had gotten married that left Motoki exasperated.

"_Oh my god!_"

It was, however, the fact that the same thing had happened every morning for the past four years since Mamoru and Usagi had gotten married that also left Motoki quite undeniably and grudgingly impressed.

"_I love her!_" Mamoru suddenly shouted, grabbing the jacket of a passing high school student and shaking him with such a manic grin that the poor boy ran for cover.

Motoki simply shook his head and turned away, half-smiling.

Four years and Mamoru was still giddy.

Now _that_ was love.

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	54. Nightmare

Hi everyone!

I hope you're all enjoying the current peak season of drabbles! Not to jinx the streak or anything, but I'm currently up to #60, which means that there will certainly be quite a few more before (if it happens at all) the stream runs dry, so to speak.

Also, other exciting and only partially related news: I'm taking a short fiction writing class! Yay!

The first two days, our professor told us that we sometimes have to just buckle down and squash our inner critics while we write (and post!), so hopefully that will inspire me to, er… also be inspirational! Hope you enjoy!

Author's Note: This drabble refers to Season R in the anime, when Mamoru begins having nightmares of Usagi's death if he gets too close to her and breaks up with her as a result.

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

54. _Nightmare_ (Word Count: 582)

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Endymion rarely slept anymore. When he did manage to catch a few hours of sleep, the nightmares continued to haunt him.

He was standing at the altar. His heart quickened with excitement as he gazed at the breathtakingly beautiful figure in white approaching him, beaming and radiant under her pale veil.

Her foot crossed the threshold to the chapel when, without warning, the chapel floor burst open under her feet with a terrifying screech and blazing rocks flew up out of the earth like flaming furies from Hell. Usagi screamed, trapped by the pool of white surrounding her feet, when a fireball of granite suddenly roared by, ripping through her airy veil and right between her shocked eyes.

The pool of white slowly became mingled with red.

"_No! NO!_"

Endymion was still screaming when he awoke to an empty bed, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air.

After minutes of fading horror had passed in the unrelenting darkness of his bedroom, Endymion fumbled with trembling hands for the picture he always kept on his bedside table. He held it centimeters from his face until his bloodshot eyes could make out the faint shimmering of his dead wife's silvery hair in the faded picture, and until his breathing evened once more in the terrifying silence.

The night came, however, when the dream consumed him completely. He awoke from the nightmare crying as he had not cried since the day Serenity had died in the accident, salty tears mingling with the blood that Endymion drew from his own lips when he bit down to choke back the sobs. And he knew inside that he could not take it anymore.

He slipped shakily out of bed onto legs that would barely support him and stumbled out of the room.

Of course, he knew that the only magical way to get rid of the nightmares was to pass it on to somebody else; but he also knew that there was not a single living soul that he would ever inflict that kind of torture on, not even to escape his own unbearable pain. Not a single soul, except one.

He crawled down the corridor and pushed open the great oaken doors.

"Pluto," he whispered in a hoarse voice when he had pulled himself into the vast chamber. "Please."

The Guardian of Time nodded as if she had been expecting him, her eyes unreadable as she received the weightless package from her king.

"Thank you." Endymion's will seemed to give out completely with these final words and he fell to his knees, trembling and sobbing at Pluto's feet.

The woman turned impassively to the golden gates, murmuring incantations of a time long past, and finally released the bundle of nightmares into the vast unknown beyond the Time Portal.

"It is done, Your Majesty."

A strangled moan ripped out of the broken man's throat, the desperate cry of a wounded animal. However, in spite of the hours that passed, the anguish would not leave him and he could not find the will to stand again.

Serenity's death had all but killed his soul at the time. There was no way to spare himself the agony of it; it was something he would have to live with for the rest of his tormented, lonely days. Endymion could only hope that, in sending his nightmares to his past self, he would at least be able to prepare him for the pain that the future would one day inevitably bring.

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Love it? Like it? Hate it and hoping that the nuclear warheads get to it? Even with all this coaching on positive thinking about writing, it's hard to break free from old habits…

Lastly, though, thank you for all of your lovely reviews! You really know how to keep a gal running (and flattered!). As always, tomatoes and extensive critic's sheets gladly welcomed!

Cheerios, Ala


	55. Panic

So…this short fiction writing class sounds _amazing_…

…but these readings and school in general are consuming my life. Which means that while I'm incredibly inspired to write, I can't write because I need to read in order to do well in this class and…improve my writing.

Catch-22.

And I haven't written a word for these drabbles since school started.

(Panic!!)

Okay, enough mindless fretting. Read on, dear readers!

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

55. _Panic_ (Word Count: 589)

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She could toy with his emotions like a cat played with yarn.

"You know, I think he might like me."

Interest.

Mamoru's ears perked up at once; he was not an eavesdropper as a matter of principle—but, well, principles always seemed to take the back seat when it came to Usagi.

"I don't see how he could like you," somebody—Rei, he thought—was sniggering to her. "You're absolutely _terrible_ at everything!"

"H-hey!"

"What? It's true!"

Anger.

Mamoru's hands curled into tight fists on the countertop, anchoring him to his spot when he would have liked nothing better than to give the dark-haired girl a good right hook (not that he punched girls as a general rule either, but that was just the point).

"I'm not _terrible_—" Usagi shot back. "Okay, so I'm not top of the class or anything…but I don't want someone who will only like me if I get good grades! Unlike you, Rei, I want somebody to like me for who I am."

Admiration.

Mamoru's hands relaxed a little bit, but he casually slid over a few seats (pretending to reposition himself closer to the nearest sugar bowl when he was really listening to their conversation).

"Well," Rei snorted, "who cares if he likes you anyway? That is, _if_ he really does. I personally think he's kind of a creeper. And he's way too old, even if he _is _good-looking.

Indignation.

He was _not_ a creeper, he thought as he inched a little bit closer, humming innocently to himself, and he was definitely not "too old" for Usagi. It was a four-year age difference, for crying out loud!

"He is _not_ too old!" Usagi protested.

Satisfaction.

Mamoru's lips curved into a small smile.

"Anyway," Usagi stamped her foot hard on the tiled floor, sending a rumble through Mamoru's stool legs, "Stop talking about him as if he's my soul mate or something, Rei. Because he's not!"

Shock.

_Wasn't he?_

"Well, I didn't mean—"

"An-and maybe you're right," she continued without pausing, her voice trembling now. "Maybe I was all wrong and he _doesn't_ like me. Because he's always harping on about the things I do wrong and I'll never be good enough for him, even if I like _him_. So maybe I just had a moment of weakness and dared to _hope._ Have you ever considered _that_?"

Mamoru froze as a new emotion seized him.

_Panic._

"_Who _doesn't like you?" he roared, jumping to his feet and practically pouncing on Usagi, who looked very stunned indeed. "I like you a lot, thank you very much, and don't you forget it!"

The two girls gaped at him as he stood there in front of them, his chest heaving and his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts.

"Er, well…"

"What?" he snapped. "Just say it!"

Usagi blinked owlishly at him. "I like you too, Mamoru," she replied after an interminable silence.

Surprise.

"…Oh." Mamoru's fists dropped to his sides.

"Yeah."

He furrowed his brow. "Then what were you…?"

"We were discussing whether or not the new English teacher likes me," she said, adding quickly, "I think he does."

"I think he doesn't," Rei interrupted, glancing enviously between the two of them.

"Oh."

Embarrassment.

Mamoru felt a blush creep onto his face as he scuffed the floor with his toe, scratching the back of his head. "Well, now I feel sort of…"

'Stupid,' was the first word that came to his mind.

"Happy," he said at last, looking up at Usagi with a huge smile.

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	56. Red String of Destiny

Hi there!

If anybody is interested in reading articles about writing (why writing is so difficult, what we can do to help remedy the fabled "writer's block," and other helpful tips and anecdotes that all writers should know about), I'm going to be posting a few from my short fiction writing class soon on my blog at Livejournal (see my user profile for the link!). I'll probably post it as soon as I actually finish the readings and decide which ones are most useful, so look out for that, and feel free to friend me!

(P.S. I'll have you know that I was stuck on this one for a long time and that I was doing my reading when I was inspired by one of the articles to just sit down and write this even though it's been really busy lately, so the reading has got to be good for _something!_)

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

56. _Red String of Destiny_ (Word Count: 728)

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Usagi ooh'd as she frolicked past the cotton panties.

She aah'd as she ran her fingers through the silk teddies.

She oh'd as she dashed past the racy Victoria's Secret poster plastered on the back wall and saw…

"_Mamoru-baka?"_

The tall young man, who was hunched over behind the "SALE: ALL LINGERIE 50% OFF" sign with the furtive look of somebody who did not want to be spotted, jumped at the sound of her voice. She caught sight of his mortified expression just as his feet hit floor again and had to suppress a giggle: Mamoru, the panty thief?

Usagi watched in mild amusement as his face turned pinker than the "Pretty in Pink" end-of-summer display behind him. "O-Odango? What are you doing here?" he asked hoarsely, shoving his fists, which had been clenching onto something she could not see, behind his back.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, actually," she replied coolly, as though they had merely run into one another at the supermarket and were discussing the weather. "What are _you_ doing in here?"

Mamoru's face visibly paled. "I was, er, sh-shopping for my—my bus! I mean, my boss!" he stammered, looking increasingly uncomfortable as Usagi slinked closer like a huntress tracking her prey. "Y-yeah, I'm just doing the Christmas shopping for, um, my boss who needs…needs…"

"A red thong to wear to the office?" Usagi finished with a wicked grin, for she had just caught a glimpse of red flash behind his back. "For the celebration she's going to celebrate in August?" she added snidely, cocking her head innocently to one side.

"I—I, no, what? Don't be ridiculous!" Mamoru sputtered, positively flustered now. "Who said anything about Christmas, what I meant was…well, August, you know, is the month of—of—"

Usagi smiled up at him as he continued to fumble for words. Of course, there _were_ no holidays in August.

She took a step closer (Mamoru nearly knocked over a mannequin wearing a furry jaguar bra in his haste to get away from her).

"Fine," she conceded, coming to a halt a meter away from him. "I won't tell anybody I saw you in here today."

Mamoru dared to look relieved for half a second, before suspicion flitted across his face. "What's the catch?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Usagi's smile widened. "Not exactly in a position for bargaining, are we?" she asked in a saccharine sweet voice.

Mamoru seemed to consider this for a moment, then his shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, I guess not," he finally sighed. "Fine. What do you want?"

Judging by the look of resigned gloom on his face, anyone in the store would have thought that he had just been told to strip naked and run through the mall warbling the national anthem. However, Usagi simply held her hand out at him, palm face-up.

"I want the underwear," she told him, fighting back laughter.

Mamoru seemed stunned into immobility. "Wha—? This?" He looked down at the slightly battered, jewel-encrusted red thong in his fist, then looked away again, blushing furiously. Then, seeming to think that it was better to get rid of the incriminating evidence while the offer was still on the table, he thrust it out at arm's length, saying as he turned his head pointedly away, "Here, take it."

Usagi beamed at him. "Thanks!" she chirped, plucking the underwear gingerly from him and sticking it in her shopping basket. "I needed this, this was the last one!"

Mamoru mumbled something incoherent under his breath.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, too," she continued cheerfully over his increasingly irritated mutters, "but I still have lots of shopping to do. Enjoy your day!"

And she skipped away, leaving a very embarrassed Mamoru to be assaulted by the barrage of saleswomen who wanted to know whether or not they could help him find his size, or if he already had a "partner."

As soon as Usagi finished buying her goods, she hurried out of the store and immediately whipped the latest addition to her scheme to seduce Chiba Mamoru out of the pink paper bag, ignoring the stares and wolf-whistles of the passerby. Her newly-acquired gem sparkled daringly under the florescent mall lights.

The red g-string of destiny.

She grinned to herself as she shoved the thong back into its bag.

Perfect.

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I'd like to think that Mamoru was not being _completely_ naughty when he went to fondle the underwear (excuse me, I mean…er, well, actually, yes, there is no gentile way to put it!), but you can use your imagination! Hee!

Cheers! And thank you to _everybody_ for your latest feedback—there's been so much, and it really makes a girl happy! If I don't have time to respond to everybody's, it's just because I've been really busy lately, but I'll try my best!

Ala


	57. Confessions

Hi! I meant to post these sooner, but ffnet was down for some inexplicably technical reason beyond my grasp. So! Here it is: the next installment. This was inspired by Livejournal mesmerising's drabble, Flowers (which can be found at the usako underscore mamoru community).

Boy, these are going even faster than I can write them! I'm glad to see you guys are still eating them up! I feel sort of like the person feeding the duck to make fois gras right now…

At any rate, I'm running low on drabbles at the moment (still at 60!), so I'm sitting down at my computer today to write and hopefully boost those numbers out of the endangered species zone. It is my goal for the rest of September to post one drabble every other day, so I should be up to number 67 by the end of the month. If you don't see that happening, you have my permission to hound my account with virtual pitchforks and torches.

Wish me good luck!

Ala

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

57. _Confessions_ (Word Count: 653)

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The first time the young man came to him, Father James sensed a cloud of despair surrounding the stranger beyond anything he had ever experienced before. Of course, it was his duty to provide guidance to the lost, and he took the man in without question, listening quietly to his confessions and recommending a few exercises for self-reflection at the end of their session. When the newcomer left that day, however, his shoulders slumped, as if they bore an even heavier burden than they entered with.

He came again the next day, his dark hair falling into a face that clearly had not slept the night before. For the second time, Father James found himself confessing the young man; and although he could not put his finger on a single confession which would explain his obvious distress, he had a feeling that the man came to him more to be heard than to truly confide. At the end of the hour, the stranger left again, his spirit no lighter than when he came in.

But he returned the next day, and the one after that. Soon, began coming so regularly that Father James could have told time by his visits. Each time they knelt behind the screen, the dark-haired man confided nothing more to him than trivial matters, and yet there was something heavy in the way he spoke of a trip to his usual haunts, a simple walk back to the apartment. It became a ritual with no purpose in sight, but Father James continued to listen patiently.

Then one day, after weeks of receiving him, the young man suddenly stopped coming. For six months, Father James heard nothing from the strange young man whose name he had neither asked nor known.

On a particularly fine Sunday morning, however, as the priest ended service and the crowd streamed out of the church oak doors, he spotted a familiar face hovering in the doorway. Father James closed his sermon book and hurried over to greet him.

"Father," the man said, stepping forward and holding out his hand.

The priest clasped his hand, noticing that the young man's features looked less worn than he remembered them being. He had also combed his hair neatly to the side for the occasion and wore a dark suit. He looked…healthier. Happier.

"How are you, my son?"

"Better." A small smile that lit up his eyes appeared. "Much better, thank you."

"I presume that you have been keeping busy."

"Yes. I'm sorry if I left without saying anything, but I had some…" He hesitated. "…unfinished business to attend to these past few months," he finished.

"We make our own miracles," Father James murmured. "What can I do for you today, son?"

The dark-haired man paused and inclined his head slightly to the side. "Actually, we came in today to see if we could borrow a moment of your time, Father."

At the word "we," Father James looked around and realized that a young woman was standing next to him. Once he had laid eyes on her, he could not fathom how he had not noticed her before. She seemed to glow. Or maybe that was what made her so striking to Father James; she did not draw attention to her own natural radiance.

The man gazed at her, his eyes filled with admiration. "We'd like to get married, and, if you are willing, we would like you to perform the service for us."

"I would be honored," Father James replied, bowing slightly.

As the couple discussed their plans with him, he cast another glance at the woman whom this young man had chosen. At that moment, their eyes locked, her bright eyes dancing under the dim light as she smiled at him.

It was in that instant that the truth revealed itself to him, and he knew with an unwavering certainty that angels really did live among men.

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I know I don't do this nearly enough if you consider the number of reviews you guys submit, so a big thank you to all you dear readers, especially the regulars: Sol Y Sombra, sailorjupiterox, Bloom Amber, Beloved Dawn, PeaceLover-SpreadIt, raye85, and everyone else (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!). I can't tell you how much it means to me to open my inbox and read so many wonderful thing (sniff)!


	58. At the End of the Day

A "true" drabble (100 words).

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Ala Verity

100 Themed Drabbles

58. _At the End of the Day_ (Word Count: 100)

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It was Mamoru's lucky day.

He received top scores on an exam.

He won a lottery contest for a new television set.

He heard back from a top-notch university interested in his research.

He got a raise at Juuban Hospital.

He bought the bookstore's last copy of _The Time Traveler's Wife_.

He found a five-thousand yen bill on his way home.

He defeated a youma by himself.

But at the end of the day, it was her smile it was that made him lie awake in bed and wonder what he had done right to deserve such a lucky life.

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	59. Unrequited Love

Hey! Still keeping true to the one-a-two-days self-challenge! I hope you guys like this one—if you're interested in how it came about, there's an entry in my Livejournal that explains the _freewriting_ that I did to get to it, so feel free to check it out!

For the purposes of this drabble, the story is set in the anime season. I thought they deserved a look at just how _difficult_ their love was. I mean, think of all the things they had to go through, right?

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100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

59. _Unrequited Love_ (Word Count: 864)

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_The Unrequited Love Diaries_

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_Unrequited_ [uhn-ri-kwahy-tid], _adjective_:

Not requited: not reciprocated or returned in kind

(As in_ unrequited love_)

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Chiba Mamoru, age 17 (March 7, 1992)

_Unrequited love:_

Meeting the girl of your dreams for the first time and realizing that she has a major crush on your best friend.

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Tsukino Usagi, age 15 (April 8, 1992)

_Unrequited Love:_

Falling madly and deeply in love with a man who only stops long enough to tell you that your hair should be served up in a spaghetti dish.

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Chiba Mamoru, age 17 (April 8, 1992)

_Unrequited Love_:

Only being able to tell a girl who already hates you that her hair would go well with a pasta plate, when what you really mean by "marinara sauce" is "I love you."

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Tsukino Usagi, age 16 (August 1, 1992)

_Unrequited Love:_

Finding out that your archenemy-secret beau is actually your long-lost prince, only to lose him at the last second to that ugly wicked hag-queen, Beryl.

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Tsukino Usagi, age 16 (December 19, 1992)

_Unrequited Love_

Waiting for him. He will come back, I know he will.

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Tsukino Usagi, age 16 (January 24, 1993)

_Unrequited Love:_

Almost being murdered by your brainwashed soul mate in battle. Twice.

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Tsukino Usagi, age 16 (May 15, 1993)

_Unrequited Love:_

Visiting your soul mate in the hospital after being reawakened and realizing that he doesn't remember a thing about your past together.

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Chiba Mamoru, age 18 (May 19, 1993)

_Unrequited Love:_

Meeting the girl of your dreams for the first time and realizing that she has a major crush on your best friend.

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Tsukino Usagi, age 17 (August 12, 1993)

_Unrequited Love:_

Getting hit on by some dorky guy in a turban with a bad accent. Desperately praying that your lover will hurry up and regain his memory, fast.

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Chiba Mamoru, age 19 (November 7, 1993)

_Unrequited Love:_

Remembering everything about your past like somebody clobbered you over the head with it. Are these nightmares a part of that memory, too?

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Tsukino Usagi, age 17 (December 17, 1993)

_Unrequited Love_:

Not being able to shrug off the feeling that something is wrong… Something's wrong…

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Chiba Mamoru, age 19 (December 25, 1993)

_Unrequited Love:_

Suddenly realizing what you have to do to keep her safe.

Oh, God, oh god, please let her be okay… Don't let her be—

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Tsukino Usagi, age 17 (February 19, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

—hurt.

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Chiba Mamoru, age 19 (February 21, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

The emptiness without her. Missing her every smile, her laughter, her face, her love… I don't know how much more of this I can take…

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Tsukino Usagi, age 17 (May 2, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Finally, _finally_ getting your boyfriend back, and then watching him get kidnapped and brainwashed by his own daughter, which is _definitely_ a low point.

(And what the _hell_ has Mamo-chan been teaching our children?!)

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Chiba Mamoru, age 19 (June 15, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Going through a series of really embarrassing events that I don't even want to talk about and then having to leave for America before you get the chance to, er, explain things to your fiancee…

God, I'm going to miss her…

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Tsukino Usagi, age 18 (August 30, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Not knowing where he is or what he's doing or why he's not responding to any of your letters.

And then there's this new guy at school…

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Tsukino Usagi, age 18 (September 28, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Feeling something you can't describe about someone you can't love, but who loves you in spite of it all…

He's not Mamoru, but I need someone. Please, Mamoru!

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Tsukino Usagi, age 18 (November 15, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

It's been almost half a year now. Where are you?

Have you forgotten me already? Are you happy?

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Tsukino Usagi, age 18 (December 7, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

I can't stand it much longer…

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Tsukino Usagi, age 18 (December 31, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Facing the final battle alone.

Please, Mamo-chan, give me strength…

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Chiba Mamoru, age 20 (December 31, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Death.

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Tsukino Usagi, age 18 (December 31, 1994)

_Unrequited Love:_

Death.

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The yellowing parchment rustled faintly as Mamoru turned the page under the dim light. He paused, his pen poised over the cut-outs from old diary entries which they had pasted together into a memorandum. For a few minutes, he simply allowed his gaze to rove over her peaceful face, along her smooth skin, her bare shoulders under the white sheets. With a small smile curving at the corner of his lips, Mamoru placed the pen tip to the paper again and made one final entry.

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Chiba Usagi and Mamoru, ages 22 and 20 (January 1, 1996)

_Unrequited Love:_

The long and hard road that two people must travel to find a new life together.

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Closing the book very quietly, Mamoru placed it back on the bedside table and switched off the lamp. Then he rolled over and gently wrapped his arms around his new wife, relishing the feel of her warm body in his embrace. He soon fell asleep, his dreams filled with her and the newfound certainty that their love had finally, finally been fulfilled.

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	60. One Touch

WHAT? ALA'S NOT DEAD??

Yeah, I ask myself the same question every day.

Hello! After nearly six months—holy cripes, that's half a year!—of hiatus, I have finally, _finally_ squeezed a drabble out of my dried-out brain. Needless to say, it has been a CRAZY past year, and without going too much into the nitty-gritty details of my personal life, I'll admit that I wasn't very much up to writing. But I do appreciate however many of you who may have missed the updates, or are even here now to read this long-delayed reintroduction.

In these past six months, I have done a lot—I've read, expanded my mind, went through tough times, and learned a lot about myself. I sit down at my computer, frustrated as ever—not knowing if this writing streak will even last beyond this single frame in time—but determined nevertheless. Below is the product of dozens and dozens of very frustrated drafts and six emotional months. It's not the best I've written, by far not—but it's something. So I hope you'll take it with a grain of salt, while I take it as a reminder that writing is, indeed, a way of self-discovery. Think of it as Gandalf the Gray going missing for a very long time and coming back as Gandalf the White; could be cool, eh?

Best to all of you—and more updates on the way! I can't wait to hear from all of you again—truly, I've missed every single one of you.

Love, Ala Verity

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

60. _One Touch_ (Word Count: 1,178)

* * *

"I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

"Oh. Okay!"

It was the moment Hiroshi had been waiting for. The second the tall, dark-haired man disappeared around the corner, Hiroshi stole out from his hiding place behind the jukebox and darted across the arcade. In a flash, he was standing in front of the now-unoccupied stool, next to which a very pretty girl was sitting, draining a jumbo chocolate milkshake at an admirably quick rate.

"Hi—is this seat taken?" he asked, pointing at the stool.

"Huh? Oh…yeah, sorry," the girl said, adding as she caught sight of the crestfallen look on Hiroshi's face, "This one isn't, though—you can sit here if you want." She pointed at the seat on the other side of her.

Hiroshi flashed her the grin of relief he had been practicing all morning as he slipped into the proffered seat. "Thanks," he said, dropping his bag down on the floor next to him. "Everywhere else is taken."

"Mhm." The girl turned back to her drink.

They sat in silence for a minute. Hiroshi hovered uncertainly next to her, unsure of how long he would have but not daring to make a move. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out his friends, who were crowded on the sidewalk outside. When they saw him looking in their direction, they made a few obscene motions at him, miming hooting and catcalls, to the horror of the scandalized patrons sitting nearest the exit. He flashed the boys a quick grin, then turned around again with renewed confidence. Casting a quick glance at the girl, Hiroshi heaved his backpack onto the counter and began rifling noisily through it, just as they had rehearsed.

"Are you looking for something?" the girl asked after a minute, glancing curiously over her towering milkshake at Hiroshi, whose nose was practically buried inside the many compartments of his bag.

"Yeah, I think I've left my pen inside the classroom," he said in a muffled voice. He pulled his disheveled head out. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra pen, would you?"

"Oh—no, sorry." This time, the girl's smile looked slightly sheepish. "I've left all of mine in class, too."

"Ah—no problem, I know what you mean." He grinned as he zipped up his bag and dropped it onto the floor again. "I must lose at least two a day."

Usagi's eyes brightened, and she leaned forward eagerly, nearly tipping over her foamy drink. "Really? No way, me too! Wow…wait till my mom hears that I'm _not_ the only one!"

Hiroshi laughed, then, as if something had just dawned on him, he pretended to pause and blink in surprise. "Say…you look familiar. Are you from Ishimuru-sensei's class?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm from Haruna-sensei's. Are you from Juuban High too?"

"Yeah, I am. Tough luck with your teacher." He paused. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Oh! I'm Usagi. And you're…?"

"Hiroshi—nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you!"

"I'm surprised, though—" he added, glancing slyly at her. "I'm sure I would have noticed a pretty girl like you at Juuban."

Usagi blushed, and her gaze dropped to her feet as she mumbled something to herself.

"Say," Hiroshi pressed on eagerly, sensing an opening, "you have really nice hands. Did you know that?"

"I—excuse me?" she squeaked, looking up at him in alarm.

"Oh no, don't get me wrong—I didn't mean it that way. See, I'm a…a photographer for the Juuban newspaper. I mean it in an, um, artistic way."

"Oh." She looked relieved, as if the fact that he was a "journalist" justified his admittedly bizarre behavior. Even Hiroshi himself had a hard time spitting out the obvious lies his friends had concocted for him. For that matter, it was hard to believe that anyone was gullible enough to believe him, and yet here was this beautiful girl…

"I don't know if you've read it recently?" he asked casually.

"No. Why?"

"Well, we've been doing a piece on hands—oh yeah, I know it sounds corny," Hiroshi said, catching sight of her surprised expression. "But it's actually a very, um, big deal. Thousands of pianists and people who, you know, er, type too much on the keyboard every year are diagnosed with arthritis and…and carpel tunnel. It's practically an epidemic."

Hiroshi felt like smacking himself over the head with the nearest napkin dispenser. _Practically an epidemic?_

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, we like to focus on things that over people don't normally cover," Hiroshi said, feeling stupider by the minute. Of course nobody covered it! Who would want to read a story about a bunch of obscure hand diseases? "Do you mind if I take a quick look at your hand?" he suddenly blurted, before he could dig himself into an even deeper hole. "For the story, I mean."

"Oh." She looked momentarily taken aback, but then an eager look crossed her face. "Sure. Do you mean I'll be mentioned?" she asked, excitement rising in her voice as she extended her hand.

"Of course. We could do a whole piece about you."

This flattering remark caused Usagi's cheeks to flush pink, and Hiroshi could not help thinking that, were the circumstances different—if he had not been _dared_ to walk in when her overly-protective boyfriend wasn't around and come into physical contact with her—with her consent, of course—he might have liked to do so anyway. He had meant it; she _was_ beautiful, especially when she was embarrassed.

"Your hands really are beautiful, you know—almost as pretty as you," he added as he reached out to take her hand, grinning with satisfaction when he saw her face turn an even more brilliant shade of red.

"If you think she has nice hands," a deep voice rumbled behind him, causing his hand to freeze in midair, "wait until you see my knuckles."

Hiroshi whirled around. Standing behind him, looking murderous, with one hand balled dangerously around a crushed paper towel, was the dark-haired man from before. Hiroshi froze.

"What's the matter?" the towering man growled, raising his fist until it was poised just under Hiroshi's nose. "Never done a story on a _real_ pair of hands before?"

Hiroshi gulped, his nose quivering just above the menacing knuckles, and squeaked something incoherent. Next second, he was sprinting for the entrance, bag and all, faster than you could say "one touch."

"Mamo-chan!" he heard Usagi exclaim angrily as he bolted out the door. "He was doing a story on my hands! He was going to give me a spot in the school newspaper! What'd you have to go scaring him off for?"

The last thing Hiroshi heard, before the doors closed and the roaring laughter of his friends outside (that would last for hours afterwards) swallowed him whole, was a man's voice asking innocently behind him, "What's the matter, Usako? Don't you think my hands are pretty, too?" and the sputtering noise of somebody choking on their jumbo chocolate milkshake.


	61. Advice

First of all, thanks for all of your warm welcome-backs last time around! I haven't had the time to get around to all of them yet—studying for those literature GRE's, you know! (And I wouldn't mind any _advice_ you might have about them)—but I do appreciate them.

And speaking of advice…here's another drabble about that very subject!

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

61. _Advice _(Word Count: 1,109)

* * *

Usagi's fingers danced nervously across the marble tabletop as she spoke.

"Well, you see, there's this guy…"

Mamoru's head jerked up so fast that he felt his neck crick.

"What guy?" he asked, pretending to stretch his neck but unsure of how to go about it, so that his head ended up flopping around like a bobblehead doll's.

"I…I don't think you know him. I mean, you might," she mumbled to her knees, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

Mamoru's eyes, which—due to his awkward stretching routine—had landed on the lazily-spinning ceiling fan above them, narrowed.

"Anyway, I came to you because—because I need advice. And I thought you might be a…good person to ask."

His answer came through gritted teeth. "What sort of advice?"

"Well, you're good with—with relationships—"

Mamoru opened his mouth to interrupt, but Usagi rushed on, tripping over her words in her haste to speak.

"I mean, I know it's none of my business, but I just wanted love life on your advice—I mean, advice on your love li—on _my_ love life and…oh, I don't know what I'm saying anymore, I'm just so confused!"

And she looked up at him with such wide, imploring eyes that Mamoru's heart nearly stopped beating.

Of course, then he remembered the lucky man whom Usagi was planning to confess to and his heart began beating very quickly indeed, as the envious green monster inside of him pounded against his ribcage and promptly demanded that somebody's throat be torn out.

"So," he said at last, swallowing, with rather more ferocity than he had intended, "you want to tell this idi—I mean, this guy that you like him, is that it?"

Usagi nodded.

"Well then, it's obvious what you should do. You should just t—"

Mamoru stopped as the traces of a hazy idea began to float to the surface of his mind. A crazy idea. A preposterous idea. A vindictive, scheming, _brilliant_ idea…

"I should…?"

Mamoru blinked. He shook his head. Then he looked up at Usagi, who was still staring at him, and grinned. "Well, then, it's obvious what you should do," he repeated at last.

She leaned forward, eyes wide. "And what's that?"

"You should…"

"Yes?"

"…clobber him over the head," Mamoru finished, with a self-satisfied nod as if it were the most natural thought in the world.

Usagi blanched. "Cl-clobber…?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "As hard as you can. Guys really like that."

"Oh, I didn't know—" she began timidly, twisting her napkin in her hands.

"And then you know what you do next?"

"Wh-what?"

"You kick him in the shins," Mamoru went on, relishing in the idea of Usagi pummeling her hapless male victim with misrepresented glee. "That shows him you like him."

"I wasn't aware—" she tried again.

"And then, just when you really think he's starting to get it, you need to hit. Him. Where. It. Hurts," Mamoru growled, pummeling his fist hard against his palm with every word now. "And really." Bam! "Pound." Bam! "It." Bam! "In there." Bam! "That you." Bam! "Like. Him." Bam! Bam!

When he had finished his vindictive diatribe, he looked up to see Usagi leaning so far forward that she seemed ready to fall out of her chair. Her eyes were bulging with astonishment.

"Oh," she said breathlessly. Then she muttered in a rather intrepid voice as she sank slowly back into her seat, "No wonder I haven't gotten anybody before now. I've never tried _that_ before."

Mamoru folded his arms and leaned back in his seat with a grim, satisfied smile. The monster in his chest unleashed a feral victory cry. 'A man-rival for Usagi's affections? I think not_!'_

"Yeah, guys really need somebody to show them who's boss," he said instead, snorting.

"Oh. Right."

"So, who's this guy anyw—"

BAM!

A thousand stars exploded in Mamoru's vision, blooming like a fiery fireworks display before him. He felt a throbbing pain in his left jaw, but before he had a chance to even think about what was happening—

WHAM!

A force as powerful as a sledgehammer slammed into his shin, causing him to double over onto the table, howling in pain. He looked up through watering eyes just in time to see Usagi's foot flying through the air, this time aiming right for his—

"_No, Usagi!_"

It was too late. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the crushing impact of her shoe.

By some inexplicable miracle, none came.

After a moment, when too much time had passed for it to be simply be a matter of his own dread slowing down the moment of doom, he cautiously opened his eyes again. Usagi was blinking at him, a confused expression on her face, her foot halted centimeters from his groin.

"Oy," he croaked, wincing at the sight of her hovering shoe. "Don't. Please."

"I—I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Usagi squealed at once, lowering her foot (to Mamoru's eternal relief) and leaping up to examine the damage her overly enthused battering had caused. Mamoru's lip was bleeding profusely, and a dark purple bruise had already begun to blossom on his right shin.

"No, no," he groaned, "Don't—"

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, hopping around and coming dangerously close to clubbing him over the head again in her distress. "You said to do it, I didn't think—I mean, I thought if you were the one saying guys _liked_ it, I never thought to question—"

Mamoru, who was still hunched over the table in pain, held up a shaking hand to stop her. Wheeze. "Just get. Me." _Wheeze._ "An ice. Pack. Okay?"

"An ice pack, right—" She whirled around, whapping him in the face ("Oh, I'm so _sorry, _Mamoru!") as she set off.

Just as she turned to leave, however, Mamoru caught her by the arm.

"Usa—" _Wheeze._ "—gi."

She whipped around, nearly taking Mamoru's eye out in the process. "Y-yes?"

"Next time—" Groan. "Telling me will—" Cough_._ "—suffice."

Usagi blushed and started to turn away again.

"Unless—"

She stopped and slowly spun around to face him. His grimace had turned into a small, pained smile that made his face look oddly lopsided.

"Unless it's some other guy," he said, spitting a bit of blood into a napkin, "in which case it's imperative that you beat him up a lot more badly than you did me."

Usagi beamed at him.

"Best advice I've ever heard," she chirped as she pranced off in search of Motoki, leaving Mamoru to grin in a rather dazed way after her.


	62. Rainbow

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

62. _Rainbow_ (Word Count: 854)

* * *

The moment the last drop of rain splashed onto the pavement outside, Usagi was bolting out the door, eyes glued to the still-murky clouds above.

"Come on, come on," she muttered, darting across the street as she scanned the skies. "Where are you…?"

A voice drawled as she sped past the corner store, "Where's the fire, Odango?"

"Wish it was on your head," Usagi shot back as she whizzed by a stunned-looking Mamoru, who had clearly not expected to be brushed off so easily.

"That's not an answer," a voice suddenly murmured in her right ear. Usagi whirled around in surprise; Mamoru was running alongside her!

"You!" she panted, narrowly avoiding a collision with another pedestrian, who lunged out of the way at the last moment, looking harassed.

"I think you forgot to say hello," he remarked, as casually as if they had been discussing the weather.

Usagi noticed with a furious glare that he was hardly running at all; in fact, he looked more like he was taking a leisurely stroll after dinnertime than anything!

"Bug off, I'm…I'm doing something!" she sputtered, trying to trip him and only managing to stub her toe painfully on a sidewalk crack as she sped up.

"Too bad your brain doesn't work as fast as your feet, Odango!"

But his insult went unnoticed by Usagi, whose eyes had suddenly widened with excitement as she caught sight of something up ahead.

"_Aha!_" she shrieked, bounding into the air and speeding up.

"What _has_ gotten into you?" Mamoru asked irritably, for who had ever heard of Usagi failing to get riled up by his insults—which were meticulously crafted for that very purpose—_twice_ in one day?

"You idiot, just _look_!"

Feeling slightly irked, Mamoru rolled his eyes heavenward. Up in the sky, far beyond the horizon and stretching endlessly beyond the tallest buildings like a bridge suspended in thin air, was a rainbow.

"A rainbow?" Mamoru shouted as he ran—Usagi was sprinting so fast now that even his lamppost-length legs could hardly keep up. "You're chasing a _rainbow_?"

"Nobody says you have to come!" she yelled back without taking her eyes off it.

"Why—on _earth_—are you chasing a rainbow?"

"I'm going to find the pot of gold at the end before anybody else does!"

"Pot of—are you stupid? There's no pot of gold at the end of a rainbow!" Mamoru panted, his legs screaming in agony as they went, if possible, even faster.

"Oh, yes there is!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"No, there _isn't_!"

"Yes, there is! And I'm going to find it at the end!"

Mamoru rolled his eyes and almost ran headlong into a bench that charged at him out of nowhere like aggravated bull. "You idiot," he huffed, tripping rather gracelessly over it like an awkward two-legged horse, "rainbows don't _end!_ That's just a myth! Rainbows are just optical refractions of light that—"

"I'm not listening!"

"—that are produced by the sunlight going through the leftover raindrops, and so no matter where you are, it'll always look like it's farther ahead!"

"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but Mamoru's science can't hurt me—"

"_You're not listening!_"

"Baka, baka—la la la…!"

"Okay, that's _it_! You _listen_ to me!"

His hand shot out and grabbed Usagi, who was going so fast at this point that she nearly went flying in the opposite direction.

"You idiot," he growled, staring fiercely into her wide, shocked blue eyes. "Rainbows don't end, okay? You're chasing after nothing but a bunch of light! At this rate, we'll be running on forev…forever…"

The word died on Mamoru's lips.

"Ye-es?"

Mamoru blinked. Very slowly, his eyes travelled across Usagi's face as if he was seeing her for the first time, then up to where the rainbow still shone, already a bit more faded than it had been. When he looked back down again, his expression had hardened into one of such determination that Usagi took a surprised step back.

"Well, what are we standing around for?" he said at last, his grip firm on her hand as he started into a brisk jog again. "Have we got a rainbow to chase or what?"

"H-hey!" Usagi squealed as he began dragging her along the sidewalk. "'_We' _are not doing anything, buster, I'm the one who—hey! Are you listening to me?"

"Not really—let's go!"

"Ack, my shoe! Baka, wait! Lemme get my shoe!"

"No time—come _on!_ Are you coming or do I have to carry you?"

"Hey, what are you—eek! _Chiba Mamoru, you put me down this instant!_"

Laughter rang out and hung there, suspended in the air as if the entire sky was chuckling at the spectacle far below. It was a moment that, like the fading rainbow, could not last forever; but as the sun peeked out meekly from behind its quilt of clouds and set the magnificent arch above them ablaze with a million dazzling jewels, the outlines of two running figures could still be made out in the distance, two dreamers, with their eyes on the gold ahead.


	63. Spring Cleaning

Hello! Let's see if I can't crank out more of these things now that summer is on, eh? Ah, yes, and Notebooks is currently open on my laptop—cheers to the summer days! I've missed hearing from all of you, so don't hesitate to drop by and say hello, either! I won't update now, hopefully there'll be many more chances to do so soon.

Cheers! - Ala

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

63. _Spring Cleaning_ (Word Count: 893)

"And it looks like it's a heated start to our first ever Crown Arcade Spring Clean-A-Thon!" Motoki shouted over the intercom as Mamoru and Usagi stood facing each other, glaring. In the midst of the war preparations, both seemed to have shed all desire to preserve their dignity: The red bandana covering Usagi's head bulged in two large lumps, giving her the appearance of a badly-concussed alien, and Mamoru was wearing a frilly apron with the words "I LOVE PARAGUAY" emblazoned shamelessly across it.

"On the right, charged with cleaning the right half of the arcade to sheer spotlessness, our undisputed champion of obsessive compulsion and a freaky knack for neatness—"

"Hey!"

"Chibaaaaa Mamoru!"

"You're a lousy announcer, you know that, Motoki?" Mamoru grumbled, glowering over the counter at his friend, who merely shrugged and plowed on.

"And on the left, our new challenger, the up-and-coming clean-meister, with a cute outfit to boot—"

"_Hey!_" Mamoru exclaimed again, brandishing his broom angrily as the crowd clapped and whistled.

"—Tsukinooooo Usagi!"

Usagi waved a rubber-gloved hand, beaming at her friends, who had come to watch.

"As you all know, the first to finish cleaning their side of the arcade wins this year's clean-a-thon! And of course, the judges—Makoto and myself—will be checking to ensure quality cleaning. Now, competitors, step forward and shake hands!"

Glaring at each other, Usagi and Mamoru clasped their gloved hands with unnecessary force.

"Didn't know you could wipe up a spilt milkshake, much less half of an entire arcade," Mamoru said, smirking as they stepped apart again.

"Yeah, well, there are a lot of things you don't know," Usagi replied coolly, picking up her mop.

"Usagi, Mamoru, ready? Okay, then…let the cleaning—_begin!_"

"Annnnd they're off!" Makoto shouted, grabbing the microphone from Motoki as the two competitors charged away, armed with a bulk-size bottle of Windex apiece. "Looks like they're off to a sweeping start—and I don't just mean that metaphorically, ladies and gentlemen, would you look at that technique!"

"On the left," Motoki yelled, "we have Usagi using the legendary Mega-Mop Tornado technique—don't try this at home, folks! You'll notice she's caught all of the debris in the center of the whirlwind, but don't be fooled by how easy she's making it look. If her mop so much as slips, it'll be Dorothy and Kansas all over again—"

"On the opposing side, Chiba Mamoru has decided to use the very difficult but incredibly effective Housewife Multi-Tasking routine; you can see that, as incredibly hunky and un-effeminate as can be, he is now managing to squirt, clean, and dry with enough speed to make any housewife proud—"

"Usagi, tackling the windows—"

"Mamoru, polishing the napkin dispensers—"

"—buffing the tabletops—"

"—refilling the salt and pepper shakers—"

"—even decorating the store front with tinsel for an added bonus and…I don't believe it—_she's done!_" Motoki shouted as the crowd screamed and cheered.

"_What?_"

Wrenching his nose from where it had been pressed against his harried reflection in an over-polished tabletop, Mamoru looked wildly around to see Usagi, looking disheveled but triumphant.

"Wh-when did you—how did you—" he sputtered. "There's no way it could be—"

"_Spankin' clean!_" Makoto's voice boomed over the speakers, causing a renewed storm of applause from the onlookers. "Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have a winner, and who would've thunk…it's Tsukino Usagi!"

A few minutes later, after the hubbub had died down and most of the crowd had dispersed, Usagi walked by Mamoru on her way out. He had sunk into a nearby chair and was staring numbly at the wall, mouth hanging open, as if it had frozen that way. Usagi paused, then waved her half-finished sundae ("courtesy of Crown Arcade, for 'services rendered,'" according to Motoki) until his eyes travelled slowly up to meet hers. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"Funny thing you mentioned spilling all those milkshakes, Mamoru," she said with a laugh. "How else did you think I would get so good at cleaning?"

And, taking an indecently large bite out of her sundae, she left.

"I don't believe it," Mamoru said in a hoarse voice as he watched her walk out of the arcade, a jaunty swing in her step. "She's…"

"—an even better cleaner than you? Yeah, I never thought I'd see the day, either." Motoki chuckled. "Still, she looked good doing it, didn't she?"

"Yeah…I don't believe it, though," Mamoru croaked again, still staring outside with the same strange, unfocused expression.

Motoki waited. There was a pause in which his eyes travelled between his friend and the girl standing outside, and back to his friend again. Then…

"But hey, you still like to clean, right?"

Mamoru had barely grunted when, out of nowhere, a flying dish towel hit him in the face.

"_Ow!_" He wrenched his gaze from Usagi, whom he had been staring at as she chatted happily with her friends on the sidewalk outside, to glare furiously at Motoki. "What was that for?"

"Nothing."

"Then what in the world—"

Motoki began collecting the mops they had been using. "Nothing," he repeated, turning to Mamoru and adding with a slight smirk, "But when you're done ogling at Usagi, make sure you wipe down the counter. You're drooling."


	64. Secret

Ahoy there!

Happy summer to all of you on the seasonal calendar—hope all's going swell! Here's another drabble for all of you; I have to admit that I've been a bit slow on the updates in spite of the fact that it's summer. I've been taking advantage of the amazing facilities (gym and pool!), and been taking the time to reread Harry Potter, and study a bit here and there, and at my internship at a local literary agency—so in between all of that, it's actually very busy! Still, I'm doing my best to wade through these…who wants to wager that they'll be done before summer ends, eh?

Hope you're all playing away the summer days—and for those of you still stuck inside working or studying, I'm totally with you! Granted, my "work" is reading lots and lots of manuscripts and giving feedback on them, but hey—look at the conveniently-placed drabble below! *Runs away*

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

64. _Secret_ (Word Count: 734)

"Oh, come on! I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Mina-chan, you always say that and every time—"

"I know, I know, but I swear! _Please?_ Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in Artemis' eye."

"Will you shake on it?"

"Of course."

The two girls hooked pinkies and shook solemnly.

"Okay. You swear you won't ever tell? Even under pain of the worst tickle bomb torture imaginable?"

"I shook, didn't I?"

"Right. Well, then, let me tell you…"

"Ami-chan! You won't _believe_ what I just heard!"

"What?"

"Well, Usagi told me not to tell, but—"

"Then you shouldn't tell me, Minako. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking about it!"

"Yes, but…! It'sreallyjuicyandI'msureshewouldn'tmindifItoldyouANDit'saSECRET."

"…It's a secret?"

"Yup."

"But Usagi never keeps secrets from the rest of us!"

"I know."

"We-ell…maybe it wouldn't hurt just to _hear_…"

"And then she said—"

"No way, I don't believe it!"

"She _said_ that?"

"And it's a secret?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell. Okay, maybe just you."

"But you have to promise—"

"You have to _promise_—"

"NOT TO TELL."

"…Remember, it's a _secret_."

"_So_."

Mamoru did not look up as his best friend sidled up to him from behind the counter.

"You won't _believe_ what I just heard," Motoki said, leaning over the counter with a smirk.

"I probably wouldn't," Mamoru said from behind the thick textbook he was reading. "If you're here to tell me about another alien abduction or failed celebrity pregnancy…"

"It's about _you_."

"My favorite subject. You'll excuse me if I don't beg for details—I don't usually need other people to tell me about me."

"It's about you and Usagi."

There was a loud clatter of metal on linoleum—Mamoru had jumped to his feet so hastily that his stool went flying to the floor.

"Tell me what she said."

"Gee, I thought you didn't c—"

"_Now_," Mamoru said, seizing Motoki by the shoulders with such force that they immediately began to feel numb.

"All right, all—_ow_, okay! I heard—I heard that she likes you."

Mamoru felt as if a large ice cube had just slid into his stomach. Slowly, he released Motoki and turned around; Usagi was sitting in a booth nearby, apparently immersed in a comic book.

"You're lying," he said in a hoarse voice, turning around again before she could catch him watching her. "Whoever told you that is lying."

Motoki shrugged. "Even if I hadn't heard it officially until today, it's not a huge secret or anything, is it? I mean, the way you two get around each other…"

But Mamoru did not hear the rest of his friend's speculations. He had just snuck another glance at Usagi—she was still reading, but come to think of it, she was sitting oddly still… In fact, it didn't look as if she was paying attention to the book in front of her at all, and if his eyes were not deceiving him, there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was almost as if…

_…It's not a huge secret or anything, is it?_

"Motoki," Mamoru said suddenly, "how did you hear about this?"

The blond considered for a moment. "Well, Reiko told me, and she heard from her classmate, who's the, er, second-cousin of a waiter who works at a restaurant Makoto goes to, so Makoto heard it from him, who I _think_ heard from Ami, who was told by Minako, who, I hear, heard it straight from Usagi herself—wow…you know, you're right! For something that's supposed to be a big secret, I don't see how so many people heard about it."

He looked up at his friend for some sign of agreement and saw, to his surprise, that Mamoru was grinning.

"Not exactly," he said, looking beside himself with such glee that Motoki wondered if the winning lottery numbers had just been called and he had just missed it.

"Er…what do you mean?"

"Well, you know what the best way to make sure something is heard is, don't you?"

"No, apparently I don't. What?"

"Just tell somebody it's a secret." And with a silly smile still pasted on his face, Mamoru turned on his heel and headed straight over to Usagi, who pushed her book to the side at once, beaming, and slid over to make room for him.


	65. Last Dance

Hello there again! Oh, you won't _believe_ the excuses I've managed to come up with this time. Aside from having written virtually nothing this entire summer so far, I have managed to keep busy reading…

…manuscripts as a literary agency, that is!

Yup, yours truly is interning at one. Nix on the details (strictly confidential stuff), but know that I have _actually _and legitimately been busy reading 300+ pages a day, in addition to my expansive personal studies (i.e. the whole of the Norton Anthology of English Literature before the end of the summer) and my Harry Potter reread (speaking of which, if anyone is interested in embarking on the Hogwarts Express with me, message me! I happen to be the moderator of a Livejournal group devoted to that very purpose).

Long story short—and don't we all wish at times that it could be short!—lots of reading and very little writing. But I'm still writing—yes, that includes schizophrenic stabs at Notebooks—so there you are.

Hope everyone is enjoying their days, rain or shine, updates or not!

Ala

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

65. _Last Dance_ (Word Count: 947)

"Listen to the music, people!" the woman at the front of the room called as couples leapt and spirited past her. "Be one with the rhythm! _Feel_ it coursing through your body, your soul, in your feet!"

"Yeah, I feel it, all right," Mamoru said through gritted teeth, having just halted mid-step to grab his throbbing foot for the tenth time that night. "Would you _mind _watching where you're stepping?" he added to Usagi, who was watching him mutter with a mixture of dispassion and impatience.

"Well, it's not _my_ fault—"

Mamoru let out a bark of laughter. "Not your fault?" he said, grabbing Usagi hastily by the hand again as their dance instructor's hawk-like gaze honed in on them and leading her into the latest dance—a waltz. "Then whose fault, exactly, would—_ow!_"

Usagi's pointed stiletto heel had just dug into Mamoru's big toe…again.

"One two three, one two—"

"Ouch!"

"Ah, sorry—"

"One two three, one two—lightly, people, now, imagine yourselves as feathers on the breeze—"

"Feathers, not bricks, Odango—_watch where you're stepping_!"

"I'm trying…" Usagi said, sounding slightly desperate now as they staggered around the edge of the room.

"One two three, one two—"

_Crunch_.

"OUCH! Okay, that's it!" Mamoru said furiously, releasing a wide-eyed Usagi and jumping away from her as if she was carrying the plague. "That's it, I'm done!"

Usagi stamped her foot on the ground, making him jump again—she had narrowly missed crushing his other big toe. "I'm not finished—_we're_ not finished—and I'm not leaving here until we are! I paid for this lesson, and I'm—"

"Finishing, yes," Mamoru said impatiently. "Well, good luck with that, because this is the last time I'm ever dancing with you."

He stalked off the dance floor to where a row of empty chairs had been lined up for spectators, trying to ignore the crestfallen expression on Usagi's face. Less than five seconds later, he heard footsteps behind him and turned automatically—okay, so maybe he'd been a bit hard on her, she was obviously _trying_—only to see Reiko, Motoki's girlfriend, hurrying over to join him.

"Don't tell Motoki," she said at once, taking a seat next to Mamoru and pulling her shoe off her feet, which looked very red. "I told him that it's my new shoes that are killing me, but the truth is that I saw you coming over and, well—" She made a face. "—he couldn't dance to save an entire endangered species, let's put it that way."

Mamoru forced a laugh, then winced. At some point during the very long night, probably during some overenthusiastically-executed pirouette, Usagi had managed to bruise his ribs, too.

"Yeah, well…" he said, trying to keep his expression neutral as he watched Motoki and Usagi join up in the middle of the dance floor. Several of the couples around them nervously edged away. "Guess they go well together, both of them have two left feet, don't—"

But Mamoru had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the dance instructor walked up to them, said "No, this won't do" in a voice that carried across the room, and pulled another pair who had been doing extremely well aside.

"Furuhata, you will be joining Ms. Sato, do _try _not to injure her, will you? And Ms. Tsukino—" The instructor dragged Usagi up to a tall, broad-shouldered man, who grinned at her, "—you and Yamamoto will be partnering up for the remainder of the night."

Mamoru could not help noticing that Usagi's new partner was very good-looking, not to mention clearly a better dancer than he was. He shook Usagi's hand and said in a surprisingly deep voice, "Pleased to meet you."

"Oh!" Usagi looked embarrassed. "Nice to meet you. I'm not very…very…"

"That's all right. We'll take it slowly, okay? One step at a time."

Usagi nodded, blushing.

He put his hand on her waist.

Mamoru felt his ears grow suddenly warm.

The man took Usagi's free hand in his.

Mamoru's cheeks flushed; his seat trembled beneath his iron grip. The man closed the distance between himself and Usagi, pulling her close to him—Mamoru stood up so abruptly that his chair clattered to the floor, and the pair looked over at him in surprise.

"Can I help you?" the stranger asked, eyeing Mamoru curiously.

"Yeah—you can move aside."

The young man had just opened his mouth to respond when Usagi stepped in between them, her expression fierce.

"_You—_" She jabbed him emphatically in the chest. "—were the one who said that was going to be our last dance together!"

"And _you_ were the one who said she never leaves things unfinished," Mamoru said as Yamamoto cast a furtive look between the two of them and, apparently deeming it most prudent not to interfere, sidled away as quietly as possible. "Or was I wrong about that, too?"

Usagi stared at him, then said slowly, "Yeah, I guess, but…"

"Well," Mamoru said grimly, stepping forward and taking her hand in his once more—the warmth there made his skin tingle pleasantly— "In that case, you'll be happy to know that I still have one whole foot left intact, and we're not leaving here until you've either learned to dance or crushed it to a pulp, got it?"

There was a slight pause.

"Do you really mean that?" she asked at last, sounding hopeful.

"You bet."

Usagi beamed at him, making Mamoru's heart soar so freely that he hardly even winced when she accidentally trod on his toes and dragged him back onto the dance floor.


	66. Multiplication

As I'm typing this, I'm sitting at my computer wondering how many of you guys got the "New Chapter" update and screamed before you did anything else. I imagine that's sort of what seeing a dead person rise from their grave feels like, except with a little less terror (probably) and a little more excitement (hopefully). Well guys, and especially from those non-believers out there, you're hearing it from the Big Cheese herself: Ala's back!

My first thought in this AN was to apologize, and to do it profusely. I realized (not for the first time) that I've left lots of you hanging with no word or hope to indicate that I will ever, ever finish anything that I've started—especially those two chaptered stories I started once upon a time (whatever happened to those, right?)—and on which you all were so gracious as to leave your thoughtful remarks, comments, and constructive criticisms.

That being said, though, I'm not really here to apologize, because more than anything else I realize that it's just good to be back again. Really, really good. This past year-and-a-half (has it really been that long?) was an insane one, as anybody who's been tuned into LJ knows, and while that's obviously no excuse for not updating regularly, I have been doing at least some writing and plan to keep posting throughout the rest of the summer, at the very least.

To keep myself accountable, I'm posting my goals here, to be completed by September 1, 2011:

a) Finish and post _all_ 100 drabbles. Target posting is once every two days, to allow time for revision. (Don't worry, I have them written up to #80 right now, so there'll be some buffer room!)

b) Finish writing "Notebooks, Not Love Notes." And for those of you who rolled your eyes or yawned and said that you've heard this one before…you're not alone. But I'm really, really going to give this a shot! I promise.

c) Enter some entries into the fifth anniversary challenge going on at usako underscore mamoru Livejournal community right now. Wish me luck!

Anyway, that's all from my end for now—I've babbled enough and now it's time for the stuff you really came here for. Hope all of you are doing just swell in your lives—drop me a line if you feel like it, I really need to get back into the swing of things here at ffnet!

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

66. _Multiplication_ (Word Count: 901)

* * *

"Okay, let's start with an easy one," Mamoru said, pointing to a problem halfway down the sheet. "Seven times three."

"I don't know. This is a waste of my time."

"Both of our times," Mamoru snorted impatiently, "and if you aren't even going to try—"

"It's not my fault," Usagi interrupted. She folded her arms and scowled. "Multiplication's just so…so inapplicable!"

After nearly forty minutes and absolutely no progress made between the two of them, this recalcitrant comment was the final straw.

"Okay, _fine_!" Mamoru's hands flew up into the air. "Fine!" he repeated, lurching forward with such intensity that Usagi actually shrank back timidly. "You want applicable? How's this for taste? One of these days you're going to find yourself on a farm because you flunked out of high school because you couldn't multiply and the farmer you work for is going to tell you that he'll feed you to the sheepdogs unless you can tell him how many rabbits he has. And in that moment it's suddenly going to hit you that for some really pathetic reason, you never managed to figure out that seven bunnies who have three bunnies apiece is—"

"Twenty-one."

"—yes, is twenty-one, and…" A disbelieving pause. Then, "Excuse me?"

"Twenty-one bunnies. There'd be twenty-one bunnies." Usagi blinked, then added an angry, "Excuse_ me!_" swatting at Mamoru's nose, for he had just twisted his neck in a flamingo-like fashion to peek under the table and come precariously close to her skirt-line. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Looking to see where you hid your calculator," came Mamoru's muffled voice.

"I didn't use one, baka!" Usagi snarled, sounding as offended as if he had just suggested that she was a coconspirator in league with an underground society of cannibals.

"Yes, you did!" Mamoru's head emerged from its unsuccessful under-table quest, the hair sticking straight up in the back like a ruffled peacock. "I said what would you do if you were trapped in a field with seven bunnies that had three bunnies each and you said—"

"Yes, twenty-one bunnies," Usagi snapped, "and technically bunnies can't have bunnies, it's only rabbits that can have bunnies because bunnies are—"

"There! HA! Aha!" Mamoru exclaimed, pointing at her and jumping up and down with all the triumph of someone who has just discovered where all of his socks have disappeared to after laundry day. "You did it again!"

"Did _what_?"

"You…you _multiplied!_"

At this, Usagi snorted loudly. "I what?"

"You did math! Don't you—don't you realize…hang on…"

Mamoru's thoughts raced to catch up with what was happening.

Odango—doing _math_? Anyone could testify to the impossibility of this; Mamoru himself had once witnessed a third-grade girl beat Usagi in a spelling contest, and it was no doubt that her mathematical prowess was hardly any better. However, it seemed now that there was the faintest, tiniest glimmer of a possibility that Usagi _could _do math, certain conditions…certain circumstances, like…

"Rabbits," Mamoru breathed, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the pink rabbit backpack sitting at Usagi's feet. "Of course."

"What?"

He was gazing at her as if he was seeing her properly for the first time. "Twenty-five rabbits with seven bunnies each," he whispered.

"One-hundred and fifty," Usagi blurted without thinking.

They stared at each other.

Mamoru suddenly leaned forward, that slightly eerie grin ever widening. "Twenty-three rabbits with seventeen bunnies each."

"391," Usagi said, sounding bewildered. "Mamoru-baka, what—"

"Eighty-five and sixty-seven."

"5695, but what are you—"

"Two-hundred fifteen and eighty!" Mamoru said loudly, the back two legs of his chair hovering dangerously in the air as he leaned forward in excitement.

Usagi's eyes widened. "17,200, but—"

"1,728 and 293!"

"506,304 and _what does this have to do with anything?_"

"_28748374 and 28734873842!_" Mamoru roared, diving under his seat for his book bag. This was—this _had_ to be—at this rate—but no, he had to make sure…

"That's…impossible." Usagi's tremulous voice floated to him as if through a haze of ambient noise. Mamoru froze.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled his nose from the bookbag whose contents he had been ravaging for the Guinness Book of World Records he carried with him at all times, and forced himself to look up at her.

"What did you say?"

Usagi blinked at him. "I said, that's impossible."

"Whaddya mean—"

"I _mean_," Usagi said shrilly, sounding slightly hysterical as her eyes went impossibly wide, "that there's no way in the world that a rabbit could have _that_ many bunnies!"

There was a very deafening, pronounced silence.

Finally, with a seemingly excruciating effort, Mamoru heaved himself back into his seat so that he was sitting across from Usagi. The Book of World Records slipped from his limp fingers and thudded heavily on the linoleum tiles.

"Usagi," he said at last, his voice suddenly hoarse—every word seemed to cost him effort— "Usagi, what's seven times three?"

The pause that lingered in that moment was fraught with the weight of a thousand newborn humpback whales.

"I told you already—_I have no idea_."

Mamoru caught one last glimpse of Usagi's bemused expression before his face slumped into his hands. "Odango, either you're a genius or just completely unbelievable."

Usagi sniffed. "Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment. Now are you going to tell me what seven times three is, or what?"


	67. Weeping Willow

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

67. _Weeping Willow_ (Word Count: 1,217)

* * *

Once a day since the time she could talk, Tsukino Usagi did a random act of kindness.

Once a day for exactly a year now, Mamoru fell more in love with Tsukino Usagi.

The first time it happened, it happened under the eaves of a weeping willow tree.

Mamoru remembered that day as clearly as if someday had etched it into his memory. It was a dreary, overcast sort of afternoon. He had spent the entire night before in a half-sleeping, half-waking dream, haunted by specters and blurred faces and the vague, bodiless sensation of a dying soul. It had been no wonder that he felt strangely restless as he trudged through the day, feeling by mid-afternoon that he would have been content to simply slump over in his seat and let his fatigue wash over him. However, he had had to undergo a series of grueling, tedious surveys for his cultural studies class, some of which had been autobiographical and involved quite a few personal questions on the touchy subject of his past. So that by the time the school bell screeched and the students cheered and the teachers sighed, Mamoru had barely enough strength left to drag himself out the front door and to the lake, which was three blocks away.

It was on that second-and-a-half block that he ran into her. Or, rather, the heel of his shoe had made a flying beeline for the bridge of his nose as it soared in an arc across the sidewalk.

Mamoru had grumbled something incoherently unpleasant, trying to rub out the throbbing sensation in his sinuses.

The girl, a frantic-looking girl of about fifteen with blonde golf balls for hair had picked up her shoe, jamming it on one foot while hopping on the other with all the grace of a drunken kangaroo. "Sorry," she had stammered, blushing as she hobbled up and down. "I was just—well, I was trying to hit my friend, you know, because she made this really rude comment but I totally missed because I—erm, well, just because, and—"

Mamoru gritted his teeth, ground out a rather sharp comment about his day having gone badly enough without her interference, and slumped away.

Less than a minute later, he arrived at the willow tree.

The weeping willow was a tall, billowy tree with a sprawling sort of sadness about it that made Mamoru feel almost at home on gloomy days like these. He had spent many long afternoons under its somber eaves, nursing the dull throb of forgotten but familiar loneliness that swept over him so often. On that day, however, he had failed to find comfort in his usual refuge. A nagging remembrance of the nervous, bouncy girl and the way her face had fallen when he brushed her off kept creeping into the periphery of his thoughts.

After nearly an hour of restless reflection, he had slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed home.

The next day had been another long one. He hardly slept during the night, woke in cold sweat to the shrill insistence of his alarm, was late for class, and headed for the lake after school with such a feverish determination to forget his troubles that he had nearly missed her completely.

"H-hey!" she had shouted after him as he plowed right past her without noticing. "Hey—hey you!"

He jammed his hands deeper into his pockets and walked faster, but his body was so fatigued from the sleepless nights that she caught up with him in a second. He stopped, scowling at a restaurant sign that flashed OPEN overhead.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, I just…why do you go to that tree?" the girl blurted, her face turning slightly pink.

He stopped and turned to look at her. Her wide blue eyes betrayed no trace of guile—she knew about him, and yet…it was almost as if she wanted to know more.

"I—It's a place I go," he said at last, "to just…think."

She had made no comment to his feeble remark. She merely nodded and somehow, that time, it seemed like permission for him to leave. So he had turned and walked away without a word, but with a strange feeling of unspoken understanding lingering in the air between them.

That day, he walked a bit more slowly to the lake. When he pushed aside the hanging branches and walked in, however, he immediately noticed something that had not been there the day before: a yellow sticky note stuck to the trunk. Written on it in a messy scrawl was a short, unsigned message:

_Hope your day looks a bit more up!_

He stared at the note, reread it twice, paused, plucked it from the tree, folded it carefully, and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

And so it went. Every day, Mamoru visited the willow tree. Every day on the way there, he ran into the girl with the anxious but chipper expression whose name, he soon learned through their brief exchanges, was Usagi. Every day, he found a new note—never signed—that belied some small but thoughtful message. At first, he had not known what to do with them; should he reply? Put them up on his wall? Throw them away? He had finally decided to save them in a small index card box he kept in his desk drawer. Soon, even on those days when his heart felt much lighter than before, he found his steps leading him automatically to the willow tree, if only to see her face and pluck the note carefully from the same spot on the tree trunk where it would inevitably be replaced by a new one the next day.

And then, when the three-hundred sixty-fifth unsigned note came—he had counted the days—he did something he had never done before. This time, he quickly read the note that had been stuck there—_home is where the heart is!_ it pleasantly proclaimed, with a small drawing of a house with dozens of little hearts bursting from tiny windows and chimneys—scribbled a quick note on the back, and stuck it back onto the tree.

Once a day since the time she could talk, Tsukino Usagi had done a random act of kindness.

Once a day for exactly a year now, Mamoru had fallen more in love with Tsukino Usagi.

Today, when they passed each other in front of the same restaurant where they ran into each other every day for the past year, they both stopped. Mamoru's heart stopped. Even the world seemed to stop.

Then, very slowly, his mind seemed to register that she was beaming up at him.

"I think I'm starting to like you too," she said softly, uncurling her hand to reveal a small, crumpled yellow sticky note.

Mamoru hesitated for a moment. Then, feeling a smile growing in spite of himself, hearing his heart pounding in his chest with renewed vigor, he reached out, plucked the note from her proffered hand, tucked it carefully into his shirt pocket as he had done many times before, and took her hand in his.

And for the first of many times after that, they walked together, hand in hand, to the welcoming eaves of the weeping willow tree.


	68. Thorns

Author's Note:

I had a major laptop crash five days ago and nearly had a heart attack—all of my summer's drabble work had been on there! The bad news is that my poor laptop baby of four years is officially done for, kaput, fried. It no longer has the will to live and doesn't turn on, which royally sucks and is the reason why I haven't been able to update the past few days like I promised I would. The good news is that I managed to salvage from the remains of it my hard drive, which contained all of the aforementioned drabbles (yay!) and which I quickly transferred to my netbook so that I could upload them before preparing the funeral for my poor baby. Oh, well—c'est la vie.

In other, also pretty awesome news, I'm getting a new laptop! And one with Windows 7 instead of that damned Vista. Thank God.

Anyway, hope you have fun with this next one! I know I did.

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

68. _Thorns_ (Word Count: 986)

* * *

"You must know that I've been…waiting for this moment for a very long time," Tuxedo Kamen said. His voice sounded low and husky in her ear.

"I know," Sailor Moon whispered. "I have, too."

His gloved hand reached softly to her cheek. She closed her eyes as he leaned in, pulling her gently towards him with his other hand on the small of his back, pressing her against him as his face neared hers. As their lips touched, he felt her breath tickle his chin as she moaned the words—

"_Excuse_ me?"

Endymion blinked and the vision before him instantly vanished. Standing in front of him, instead of Sailor Moon, was her futuristic civilian-queen form, holding a spatula menacingly in one hand and posting the other hand sassily on her hip.

"What do you think you're doing?" Serenity asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she padded into the room like a hunting lioness.

"Nothing—" Endymion began—but his voice having jumped an octave too high, and his hand having jumped automatically to scratch the back of his head (as he did whenever he was nervous) told Serenity, his blissfully wedded wife of nearly one-hundred and thirty-three years, only too plainly that he was lying. She pounced on him in an instant.

"Are you playing with the Memory Crystal again?" she demanded, lunging at him and flopping harmlessly on the bed as he danced out of the way just in time. She pushed her hair out of the way and glared at her husband, who now stood sheepishly on the opposite side of the room with something hidden behind his back. "You _are_! Endy, you _know_ that you're not supposed to mess with it!"

"Oh come on, Sere, it's not a big deal—"

"The Memory Crystal is supposed to be an _accurate _archive of all of the events of Crystal Tokyo since its beginning, and that means _everything_." Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Give it here."

"But _Sere_—"

"Now, Chiba Endy Mamoru!"

Endymion shuffled over to where his wife sat, poised to strike, on the bed. Then, with the grudging acquiescence of a child who has been caught with his hand in the sweets jar, he deposited the heavy crystal in Serenity's hand.

Her fingers closed around it at once, and she strode across the room to a safekeeping box, pushing the Memory Crystal gently inside before closing the door and pushing a few buttons. There was a soft whirring sound and the safe clicked shut.

"Now, Endy…"

"Oh, come off it, Sere," Endymion whined as he flopped back onto the bed in defeat. "Can you really blame a guy for wanting to fix something like that? I mean," he went on as he kicked his feet childishly at the mattress, "okay, so it's changing the past, _but_ Tokyo has all of the memories in the world stored in that crystal and who's going to notice, really, if one tiny little insignificant memory—"

Giggle.

He stopped. The noise stopped, too.

"—if…" he began again, hesitating. "That is, if one tiny, insignificant, utterly irrelevant—"

Another titter. This time, Endymion bolted upright on the bed.

"_Sere!_" he exclaimed, sounding scandalized.

Serenity was sitting on a pouf in front of her vanity, her fist stuffed into her mouth and her thin frame shaking with silent laughter.

"This isn't _funny_!" he said in mortification as his wife broke down completely and rolled off the chair, positively roaring with mirth. "This is a very serious…serious issue, Sere, and a deepest matter of a man's pride—"

"Oh…oh yes," Serenity managed to gasp as she pushed herself into a more dignified sitting position on the floor, her hair frazzled and tears streaming down her face. "I can see how—" Laugh, turned into a cough. "—it would be—" Giggle. "—a matter of the _deepest_ pride—"

She could not continue, but dissolved immediately into another fit of laughter.

"Hey! I'd have you know that—"

"Okay, okay." Serenity held up her hand, clearly struggling to compose herself. When her giggles had subsided, she looked at him seriously. "You're completely right. This is an important issue."

Endymion stared resolutely at the ceiling.

"A first kiss is a big deal, especially for a man of your…caliber. And abilities."

"Yes," Endymion said stiffly.

"And of course, it would be important to you how the world—how _I_ remember our first kiss."

There was a slight pause.

"However," Serenity blurted, "you _do_ realize that just because you alter the Memory Crystal, it will do nothing whatsoever to change my recollection of the fact that during our first kiss, you pulled me up against you so _passionately_ that you neglected to remember that you kept a dozen fully-thorned roses in your shirt pocket and spiked me so badly that we had to phone the emergency room and tell them that a flower delivery truck had somehow managed to careen five kilometers off the highway into the middle of Juuban park and send all of its wares flying directly into my chest?"

There was a prolonged, stiff silence.

"You just had to say it," Endymion croaked at last.

Serenity fought back a smile as she flounced across the room and put one arm around her husband's waist. He flinched.

"You know what I remember most about our first kiss, though, Endy?" Serenity said softly, her fingers dancing up his bared arm.

Endymion made a muffled, noncommittal noise into his hands.

Her fingers reached his neck, and she traced it playfully as she leaned up to whisper tantalizingly in his ear, "The month-long display of 'apology kisses' that went along with it."

At this, there was a sudden rustling noise, followed by a giggle that abruptly turned into a moan; while beside the bed, Mamoru's shirt fluttered unheeded to the floor, a thornless rose still poking out harmlessly from its pocket.


	69. Pen Pal

Ala Verity

100 Themed Drabbles

69. _Pen Pal _(Word Count: 645)

* * *

_Dear Igasu,_

_ I have a problem. I know we haven't been corresponding very long and we don't even really know each other, but I need to tell somebody. Motoki—he's my best friend—wouldn't understand. There's this girl I like. A lot. But so far I haven't been able to do more than tease her every day when all I really want to do is tell her how I feel. What should I do?_

_ Awaiting your advice,_

_ Mamoru_

_ Dear Mamoru,_

_ Has it ever occurred to her that you might tease her because you haven't really had the chance to think about how you really want to act towards her? Try thinking about the things that strike you most about her—her hair, her eyes, her personality, her humor—and compliment her on it the next time you see her. If you're worried that she'll react badly at the sudden change, start with something small._

_ Yours,_

_ Igasu_

_ Igasu,_

_ I blew it. I blew it big time. I did exactly what you said to do—I think I must have agonized over it for hours last night, thinking of all the things that attract me to her, but when I saw her walk through the arcade doors this afternoon with her usual group of friends it all just…gah! All thought went out the window, and the only words that flitted to my tongue were, "Nice hair—what'd you do, stick your head in your mom's spaghetti last night?"_

_ My life stinks._

_ From the dark corner in his room,_

_ Mamoru_

_ Hi Mamoru,_

_ It's your intuition that apparently stinks, not your life. And fortunately for you, intuition you can fix! Just make sure not to hit the panic button anymore and just listen to me. Have you ever thought about just telling her how you feel?_

_ From the brighter side of life,_

_ Isagu_

_ Dear Isagu,_

_ Every day. Sometimes twice a day._

_ Just try it!_

_ -Isagu_

_ Tried to take your advice today. Had the mantra running through my head for two hours over a cup of cold coffee before she walked in the door._

_ The words that subsequently spewed forth like so much noxious ooze from my lips (aren't I waxing poetic? It seems it's the only thing I _can_ do) turned out to be the quote of the day:_

_ "Hey, so I was kidding when I said what I said about your hair the other day. I think the udon cart is sending out a complaint, though—it's missing its stock of fish balls."_

_ So, aside from speaking…any other advice?_

_ Currently putting the wall in danger of being repeatedly headbanged,_

_ Mamoru_

_ Mamoru,_

_ Since it seems like words are not your forte, there is clearly only one path left to you. _

_ However, I'm not sure whether you'll agree…_

_ - Isagu_

_ Isagu,_

_ I never thought, when I joined this anonymous online pen pal group, that I would find somebody I could so easily confide in. Now, though, I've been proven wrong, and while I haven't had the best of luck, as long as you're the one typing the words, you know I'll do it._

_ Very sincerely yours,_

_ Mamoru_

_ Just kiss her, you idiot._

Her hand hovered for a moment over the ENTER key as she stared at the five newly-typed words on the monitor. Her finger pressed down. There was a soft _ding_ and a box appeared with the words "Message Sent." Usagi stared at the screen for another long moment, then got up, a grin spreading slowly across her face as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and skipped out of the room, giggling quietly to herself.

After all, she thought as she pranced out the front door, there was nothing like a pen pal to give a man a well-needed little push in the right direction.


	70. For the Love of

Just a quick thank you to all you lovely readers! It really does feel good to be back, and that's all I wanted to say.

Here's a weird, quirky take on the topic that I came up with, oh, I don't know, three years ago when I first started working on these? Huh. Makes me feel my age. Oh well. Read on!

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

_70. For the Love of… (_Word Count: 375)

Another day, another argument. Motoki sighed as their latest battle of wills raged on. The topic of the day, he had gleaned from the heated exchange drifting across the arcade, was something along the lines of, "_I would do anything for the love of_…"

"Chocolate manufacturers!"

"Respected leaders of the medical community."

"The Three Lights!"*

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you would. The admission officers who are going to be reviewing my applications this fall."

"The ice cream man!"

"The promising head of a prominent hospital."

"A life-size gingerbread man with creampuff buttons, chocolate icing, and a thick head full of whipped-cream hair!"

Mamoru's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You would do anything for the love of a gingerbread man?"

"And what, exactly, is wrong with that? All _you've_ been trying to earn is the love of a bunch of snooty intellectuals!"

"And all _you_ want is to marry the ice cream man! You are _impossible_ to comprehend!"

"Oh, and you're a complete angel!" Usagi snorted. "Don't try and talk your way out of this one! It's still your turn!"

"I would do anything for the love of the merciful God—so He could get me away from _you_!"

Usagi opened her mouth angrily to retort, but before she could, Motoki—who had been watched more than a few patrons throwing dirty looks in the pairs' direction—strode over and slammed down refilled drinks for both of them, growling through gritted teeth, "_For the love of_—_argh_!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Would you just say each others' names already so I can run my business in peace?"

Neither of them said another word after that, but the telltale flushes creeping up on their faces as they stared down at the table told him that they understood his meaning perfectly.


	71. Quiet Despair

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

71. _Quiet Despair_ (Word Count: 394)

* * *

The seat seemed to groan alongside Mamoru as he sank into it. "This has got to be the _worst_ day of my life."

"Trouble with Usagi again?" Motoki asked sympathetically, handing his glum-looking friend a cup of iced tea.

"Boy, can you say that again! To start with, I was up studying so late last night that I _completely_ forgot about our brunch plans—"

Motoki immediately let out a low whistle. Both of them knew full well that Usagi without breakfast did not bode well.

"—then when I got to her house to apologize, she had gone out already with Rei, which left me explaining to her homicidal dad why I had forgotten to pick up his little princess in the morning—"

"Ouch…"

"—which did _not_ go over too well with Usagi, because by the time she came home and explained to her dad why she was even dating a guy like me, she began to realize that not only was this not the first time I had missed one of our brunches, I had managed to miss the most important meal of the day with her more than once—"

"Ah, still won't let you live down those pre-scheduled lunchtime med school interviews, huh?"

"—and to top it all off, our third _anniversary_ is tomorrow and I've been so busy worrying about all this that I haven't had any time to _plan_ anything!" And with this final, despairing exclamation, Mamoru sank down in his chair and buried his face in his hands. "I've messed up so much this time, I think I'm sinking into a state of chronic, incurably quiet despair."

"Oh come on, Mamoru, don't say that!"

Mamoru's eyes peered up hopefully over the edge of his fingertips. "You mean," he whispered, "you mean you think I can fix things with her?"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Mamoru's shoulders slumped a little. "No?"

"I was thinking it deserved…well, hrm…deserved…"

"Deserved _what_?"

"It deserved, well, a much _louder_ sort of despair." And with that, Motoki burst into laughter. "You're screwed, man."

"Oh, trust me," Mamoru growled, rolling up his sleeves as the blond continued to roar and pound on the counter with mirth, "by the time I'm halfway finished with you, you're going to be in a much louder state of despair than I ever will be."


	72. Fortune

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

72. _Fortune_ (Word Count: 882)

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"Step right up to the Wheel of Fortune! Find out whether Lady Luck or Ill-Fated Fortune is on your side today! How about you, sir? Yes, you in the blue shirt and white khakis, with the avoidant glances and pretty lady on your arm! Come on over and find out your fortune today!"

"I'd really rather not—" Mamoru began, but his mutterings were cut off by a screech as the girl clinging to him tightened her vice grip around his arm.

"Oh come _on_, Mamo-chan, don't be a spoil-sport, let's try it!" she squealed, half-dragging him over to the booth where the paunchy old man beamed at the pair of them. "We'd like both of our fortunes done, please."

"Fortune can't be _done_, young lady," the man said, winking at Mamoru as if they were sharing some grotesquely private secret, by which the latter was unfortunately repulsed. "I'm merely a soothsayer for Lady Luck. Now, which one of you wants to go first?"

"Ooh, I don't know, Mamo-chan—why don't you try it first?"

"Rather not," Mamoru mumbled again as he dug into his pocket for his wallet and slapped a ten into the host's pudgy hand.

"All right all right!" the man boomed, stuffing the cash into his obscenely-outdated fanny pack. "Let's see what the Wheel of Fortune has to say about your day, young man!"

With an asthmatic wheeze and a hefty heave, the old man pushed the large, ornamented wheel into motion. It puttered along for several moments, flashing by symbols of centaurs, snakes, and spaceships, before halting to a stop at…

"The vixen!" the host chortled, slapping Mamoru on the back as the red arrow stopped at a picture of a seductive-looking, raven-haired lady. "Looks like Lady Luck's on your side today! You'll be meeting a pretty young lady or two, I warrant, eh?"

Mamoru could have pounced on him—and might have, too, if Usagi had not sputtered at that very moment, "He's going to _what_?" and then, with a slap on Mamoru's arm, "You're going to _what?_"

This remark sufficiently diverted Mamoru's attention for the next five minutes or so, until he hastily explained to Usagi that the attractive lady in question was undoubtedly herself and that this fortune business was just a bunch of hocus-pocus anyway that nobody in their right mind would believe and that, no, he was _not_ having an affair with the moderately pretty (Mamoru, however, made a point of calling her ugly and squat) girl who worked at the arcade.

"All right, then," the host squawked when they had finished their squabbling, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Are we ready to move on to the young lady?"

Usagi, who, in addition to being persuaded, had been slightly mollified by the timely appearance of two large wads of cotton candy, gave a muffled assent. The wheel sputtered along at once, whizzing past the werewolf, wheezing past the scroll, whirling by something that looked suspiciously like a dead corpse…

"No."

Usagi, who had been munching away happily at her cotton candy, felt Mamoru's hand suddenly tighten around her wrist. She looked up in surprise to find him standing stiffly in front of her, his eyes narrowed.

"Mamo-chan, what—"

"Come on, we're leaving."

Usagi stopped mid-bite. "L-Leaving? But what about the churros—"

"I'll buy you one on the way out."

"—and the circus—"

"There's one in town next week," Mamoru said curtly, tugging at Usagi to start walking towards the exit.

"—or the Ferris wheel—" Usagi protested, digging her heels into the ground with surprising force as he tried to drag her away from the booth.

"I'll take you to Disneyland, okay?" Mamoru said loudly, at which Usagi's eyes went impossibly wide and her body gave up any lingering traces of resistance. She had been begging him for years now, and Mamoru _never_ wanted to go to Disneyland.

"Erm, Mamo-chan," Usagi said timidly, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the booth behind them as they sped away, "Mamo-chan, can you at least tell me what's going on?"

"Trust me," he muttered, striding across the fairgrounds so fast now that she had to jog to keep up with him. "You don't want to know." At Usagi's obvious bewilderment, he paused and smiled. "Just suddenly felt like it'd be a nice day to spend with you at home alone. How does a rented movie, candlelit dinner at home, and s'mores over the fireplace tonight sound?"

"Ooh, Mamo-chan, that sounds great! Do you really mean it, we can make s'mores, and toast them, and maybe rent 'The Notebook,' I love that movie, I mean only if you don't mind watching it and…"

Mamoru nodded as Usagi gushed on. She was evidently distracted enough not to notice him casting one final glance at the Wheel of Fortune that was quickly receding into the blur of flashing lights and buzzing booths. At the very top, where the red arrow pointed at one of the innumerable symbols carved into the wheel, he swore he could almost make out the outline of a tantalizing, half-naked, and extremely sexy-looking man.

He didn't care what he had said about it—he certainly was not going to take his chances with wily Fortune.


	73. Wild West

Howdy, y'all! Hope you're all still enjoying the summer months—and maybe a few more drabbles! Just a quick shoutout to thank all of you from whom I've heard during the last few postings…your comments are always a great pick-me-up from a long and dreary day.

Now read on!

-Ala

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

73. _Wild West_ (Word Count: 754)

"There's no question about it. Romantic comedies are obviously the best!"

"I don't know where you get _that_ notion from," Mamoru countered. "Maybe it's the same voice in your head telling you that grapes are a vegetable?"

"That was _one_ time!"

"The one time your inner three-year old finally decided to make an appearance?" Mamoru snorted.

"Well, that just shows—" Usagi stopped short, apparently reconsidered, and crossed her arms stubbornly. "We weren't talking about grapes, anyway. We're talking about movies, and romantic comedies are still the best!"

"No way!" another voice chimed in from behind Mamoru. Both of them looked up to see Motoki, cheery as usual, holding a tray with two ice cream sundaes on it.

"See? I was trying to tell her, but—" Mamoru leaned back, looking smug. "—as usual, her head's too hard to do much more with than maybe hammer in a nail."

Usagi leapt up, but not before Motoki hastily shoved one of the hot fudge sundaes under her nose—a strategic conciliatory gesture by any measure. She took the truce offering, although not without shooting one final dirty look at Mamoru, who obliged by sticking out his tongue at her.

"It's clear here," Motoki went on, jamming a spoon into Mamoru's mouth by way of forcing him to stop making faces at Usagi, "that you two are arguing over the best genre of film. It's even clearer that there can only be one answer, and that _that_," he said wisely, "is the western."

His declaration was met with a general outburst from both of his friends; the blond, however, held up his hand to stop both of their exclamations.

"There are many reasons why the Wild West captivates the romantic imagination," Motoki sighed, assuming a tone not unlike that of an overwrought PBS documentary narrator's. "The first of these is the notion of the cowboy, the fearless commandeer of the unknown and untamed wilderness, which…"

Mamoru snorted, but by now the number of Motoki's listeners had dwindled to one, for Usagi found herself quite lost in her own thoughts, which were bemused, slightly schizophrenic, and went something like this:

_ Cowboys, huh?_

_ What's that, Usagi? You like cowboys?_

_ Cow—what? No way! That's Motoki's thing. I don't even want to think about what he sees in them._

_ Sure, if you say so…_

_ Wh-what are you trying to say?_

_ Well, I don't think you'd exactly be complaining if _Mamoru_ walked out here in cowboy boots, eh?_

_ What? I don't know what you—_

_ Or cowboy boots…and spurs._

_ Okay, well yes, maybe that would be…no, no, no! That's just plain wrong, Usagi, stop—_

_ And on a horse._

_ …A horse?_

_ You heard it, girl. A big, whopping, wild horse._

_ What kind of horse?_

_ A mustang. An untamed mustang. And remember, he's wearing spurs._

_ …Damn. You're right. That _would _be sexy._

_ …of course…romantic value of…Mamoru on a horse…exciting…Wild West is…Don't you think, Usagi?_

"Huh?"

Usagi blinked. Motoki was gazing intently at her, drumming his fingers expectantly. He had obviously asked her a question that she, lost in her daydreams, had not heard.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Motoki, what did you say?"

"I asked if the Wild West doesn't sound exciting," Motoki said, looking amused at her obvious bewilderment and adding, "but I suppose I have my answer already, don't I? Something on your mind, Usagi?"

"N-no, I wasn't—" she said, flushing and casting a quick glance over at Mamoru, who had remained oddly silent this entire time. He seemed to be staring straight at her. She cringed. What if he knew? Did he suspect…?

But in spite of the fact that he was looking straight at her, he did not seem to notice her unease. In fact, he appeared as lost in thought as she had been only moments before, and it was her mortification at what would happen if Mamoru found out what she had been thinking about him that led her to stammer an excuse and scurry away a few seconds later. Motoki left hardly a minute after her, shaking his head at his bemused friend and chuckling something about "being completely hopeless."

Of course, if Usagi _had_ known exactly what had been running through Mamoru's mind at the time, she might have felt slightly less mortified. She might even have felt, well, flattered. For at the very mention of the Wild West, there had only been one room for one thought in Mamoru's otherwise very intelligent and articulate head:

_Usagi in cowgirl boots…I _like_ it._


	74. Two Halves

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

74. _Two Halves_ (Word Count: 408)

* * *

Being two halves of a wedded whole, the Chiba household was all about all for one and one for all. This was true all of the time—except, of course, when it came to splitting the last piece of apple pie.

"Hey!" Usagi squinted as she watched her husband slice the remaining piece of pie in two. "Your half is bigger."

"Nonsense, you know that I always cut it into two perfect halves," Mamoru said, handing his wife one of the plates. "Now if you don't stop fussing, I'm going to finish my slice and eat yours, too."

Usagi did not touch her slice. "Mamo-chan," she said at last.

"Mm?"

"If the two halves are equal…"

"They are," Mamoru assured her, wiping his fork on his napkin with a complacent air as he prepared to take his first bite.

"…then let's switch."

"Yes, dear, let's—" The fork clattered to the table. "W_hat_?"

"You heard me." Usagi grinned. "If both of them are _perfect_ halves like you say, it won't matter which one I take, right? So let's switch."

Mamoru opened his mouth for a second, shut it, seemed to reconsider, and finally said, very seriously, "Can't."

Usagi's triumphant smile faltered. "Why not?"

"Erm, well—because if I did that, that would—" Would what? "What I mean to say is…"

"Oh, give it up, Mamo-chan, you've been caught red-handed doling out uneven portions!" Usagi jabbed her fork at her husband's nose. "Now hand the pie over, buster!"

She made to lunge at his plate at the very same moment that his own fork whipped through the air, taking off a considerable hunk from his slice of apple pie, which promptly found its way into his mouth.

Usagi howled, hand halfway to his plate, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

"Thawry, no can—thoops." Mamoru swallowed the enormous bite of pie as Usagi scowled at him, wiped his mouth on his napkin, and grinned. "I meant, sorry, no can do. As you can clearly see," he indicated the mutilated pie with his fork, "my slice is significantly smaller than yours, and really," he said, digging vigorously into the pie now with a doleful air of regret, "what kind of a husband would I be if I gave my wife a smaller half of the apple pie than my own?"

"Gee, I wonder," Usagi muttered, stabbing her fork moodily into her own measly piece of pie.


	75. My Soul's Shelter

Hello there, hi there, ho there, fellow faithfuls! Hope those of you who are starting up again with school and whatnot are having a good time of it right about now! I realize that I've been a bit aloof when it comes to responding-and even posting-but I'm certainly giving it my darndest. (I'm writing the last ten drabbles even as I type-whoohoo!) I hope all of you are looking forward to it; to be honest, it's been a while since I've had a good conversation through ffnet or even heard from most of you, so don't be afraid to drop me a line (goodness knows that I need the social interaction in my dark dank little writing corner here).

Cheers!

Ala

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

75. _My Soul's Shelter_ (Word Count: 353)

* * *

_Billowing ships crossing storm-tossed oceans_

_ What strife do they know, compared to the turmoil in my heart?_

_ For when I see your face in my mind's eye_

_ It is as if a flood of feelings burst forth_

_ From behind the concrete walls,_

_ As if a sudden bloom of color_

_ Fills that grayness that has been my life._

_ And in that moment when, through the rush of waves, _

_ I see you in the distance,_

_ I know I have come to a safe port at last,_

_ To you, my soul's shelter._

When Mamoru had finished reading the last line aloud, he gave the well-worn pages an appreciative sigh before slipping in a notecard and closing the book. He looked up expectantly at the girl sitting across from him, and was startled to see her on the verge of tears.

"Odango, what…?"

The blonde sniffled, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a napkin. Her shoulders seemed to tremble slightly as Mamoru stared at her in bewilderment. Finally, she managed to choke out between the tiniest of hiccups, "It's just so…so…"

"So what?" Mamoru leaned forward in anticipation, his heart pounding. Had it worked? Had she really been so moved by it that she had been brought to tears? "Beautiful? Poetic?"

Usagi shook her head.

"Then what? What is it? Mesmerizing? Utterly and completely mind-blowing? What?"

"So _corny!_"

And with that insuppressible exclamation, Usagi burst into laughter.

Mamoru felt as if he had been slammed over the head with a wrecking ball.

"Wh-what…?"

"'I have come to a safe port at last…_My soul's shelter!_' Can you believe it? Who in the world came up with a ridiculous line like _that_?"

"It's…my soul's shelter," Mamoru stammered, "that's…"

But his explanation was more than she could bear. Without another word, Usagi fell off her seat and sank onto the floor in a fit of roaring laughter, leaving a mortified Mamoru to shove the book of love poems he had written especially for Usagi as hastily as he could into his backpack, making a mental note as he did so to burn the book the moment he left.


	76. Family

I definitely had bundles of fun writing this one. Hope y'all enjoy it!

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

76. _Family_ (Word Count: 1,433)

* * *

"Don't worry, Mamo-chan," Usagi said, smoothing down her boyfriend's collar in what was evidently meant to be a comforting manner. "It's not like you're declaring war on him. We're just telling him what he knew was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Unfortunately, sooner probably doesn't sound quite as nice to him as it does to us," Mamoru muttered, yanking at his tie so hard that it actually tightened to a suffocating vice-grip around his neck.

"Okay, there," Usagi said, failing to notice his morbid musing and giving his collar one final pat. She smiled at him. "At least Daddy won't have any excuse to say you _look_ like the riffraff he _thinks_ you are. Ready?"

"Never."

She rang the doorbell.

The door flew open before the bell had even finished its death toll.

Looming on the doorstep in all his cinched-belted, starched-collared glory was Tsukino Kenji. Mamoru was surprised to see neither the tuxedo nor the hard, boiling expression of stampeding-rhino-fury the man wore; Tsukino Kenji treated every prearranged encounter with Mamoru as if it were the funeral of a particularly unpleasant relative.

"Behave yourself, _both_ of you," Usagi said sternly before either of them could say a word, adding as she pecked her father on the cheek and flounced inside, "Come on in, Mamo-chan!"

This left Mamoru to suffer a full ten seconds' worth of glowering wrath on the doorstep before he was finally allowed inside with all the enthusiasm of that which welcomes home a stench-ridden, flea-bitten dog.

"Where's Mama?" Usagi asked as they all sat down in the living room—Mamoru and Usagi on one couch, Kenji on the one immediately opposite them. The space between Mamoru and Kenji's daughter would have comfortably admitted a rather generous-sized two-horse wagon.

"Out," was Kenji's terse reply, which could have been as much a response to his daughter's question as a command to the young man sitting across from him.

Mamoru gulped and reached up to loosen his collar, but Usagi caught his hand and brought it to his side again. Kenji's eyes narrowed at the skin-to-skin contact.

"Papa, we have news for you."

"What sort of news?" Kenji said, glaring at Mamoru's hand now with such palpable intensity that Mamoru hastily made to move his hand away. The gesture, however, caused Usagi to frown slightly at him, and he settled his sweaty palm in hers again with the feeling that it was the last thing he would ever do in this life.

Usagi took a deep breath and beamed at him. "Daddy, we're getting—"

"Did I tell you," Kenji said suddenly, "that Hiroshi from down the street dropped by today? You remember him, of course. Fine young man, that one. Good—"

"Daddy!"

"—good family, never afraid to show up and say hello to your father. Good breeding, I always said. Yessir, that Hiroshi is an upstanding fellow, and—"

"_Daddy!_"

"What?"

It was clear that Kenji knew "what," and the glower on his daughter's face was enough to make him look slightly abashed; but something in him—stubbornness, fatherly affection, murderous instinct—pushed him on as if he had not heard her.

"As a matter of fact, Hiroshi came over today to see if you were in the house, which I told him you were not _at the moment_, but you would be back from, hrm, somewhere with _somebody_—"

By this time, Mamoru was squirming so badly that the entire couch trembled—it took a soft 'ouch!' from Usagi to make him realize that he had nearly been crushing her hand in his tight grip.

"Sorry, Usako," he whispered hurriedly, barely daring to glance at her out of the corner of his eye as her father's voice grew louder; but he had hardly done so, when the sight of something there made him freeze.

Usagi was clearly fighting back tears. At first he thought he had actually hurt her hand, but it took only a closer look for him to realize that these were not tears of pain; disappointment, embarrassment, shame washed over her features as her father continued to ramble on, all but oblivious to the two of them.

Of course, Tsukino Kenji was not a bad father, and if he had known how much his words afflicted his daughter at that moment, he would not have said another word for the world. However, he was also a very proud, protective father, and it took the subtle intimacy of a lover to see now what Mamoru saw.

"—and you know what I told him? I told him that my daughter deserves the very best, and if there was any man out there who could take care of her and stand by her even half as much as I have tried to do—"

Usagi was staring at her knees. The tears in her eyes screamed in silent mortification at them.

She thought Mamoru was not going to stand up for her.

No, not just for her—for _them_.

In that moment, seeing his future wife looking so completely betrayed, something sparked inside Mamoru. Without raising his voice, and just loud enough to be heard over Kenji's speech, Mamoru stood up and said, "You're right."

"Of course I'm right, I—"

Kenji stopped short. He blinked and looked up, gazing at the young man standing before him as if he was seeing him for the first time. "What did you say?" he asked at last.

Out of tear-filled eyes, Mamoru could see Usagi staring at him, too.

"You're right," Mamoru repeated. His gaze met Usagi's and he smiled. When he looked up again, it seemed to Kenji that the young man stood a little straighter. "Your daughter deserves somebody who will stand up for her. Somebody who will be there for her."

"Mamo-chan…"

"And I—I haven't been that person. Not until now." He squeezed Usagi's hand gently and pulled her up so that she was standing next to him. "I've been afraid—okay, _deathly_ afraid of what would happen to me when we came to tell you, Tsukino-san, but not anymore."

Mamoru took a deep breath.

"Tsukino-san, I would like your permission to marry your daughter."

Kenji looked as if he had been run over by a steamroller midway through laughing at a joke—his mouth seemed frozen halfway between shock and something bordering on amusement…or was it something else?

He cleared his throat. "Ahrm," he said when he had blinked several times and tugged at his collar much as Mamoru had been doing before, as if it had suddenly grown pincers. "Well, so you want to marry my daughter, do you?"

"Yes, sir."

He peered up at the man standing before him over his spectacles. "And when you say you would like to 'ask my permission,' this means that you've already decided and are here merely to pay respects?"

"Not as offense, sir, but yes."

"And nothing I can say about chainsaws, automatic weapons, or any countless methods of unfortunate ends can change that."

"…No, sir."

Kenji stared at him very hard for a second, then suddenly leapt to his feet and did the last thing any of them could have expected from the deranged, rifle-owning father: he pulled Mamoru into an enormous bear hug.

"That's m'boy!" Kenji shouted, clapping Mamoru hard on the back before pulling away again. "Welcome to the family!"

Mamoru hardly dared to believe his ears. "Ex-excuse me?"

"You heard me! Now, I won't say much for your taste in clothing, Usagi," Kenji said, eyeing Mamoru's rather frumpy-looking green jacket with a trace of amusement, "but other than that, you couldn't ask for a better catch, I suppose. If this one'll stand up for you in spite of all the hell I gave him these past two years, then I've got nothing to complain about."

The tears that had been clinging for dear life now streamed freely down Usagi's cheeks as she threw herself into her father's arms.

"Oh, _daddy!_"

"Thank you," Mamoru said with a grin as the father and daughter embraced. "I'll take good care of her, I promise, Tsukino-san."

Kenji's face suddenly grew very serious. He gazed sternly at Mamoru over his daughter's shoulder.

"Just one more thing."

"…Yes?"

"If you want to be a part of this family, Mamoru, you'd better get this in your head and know it good, got it?"

"…Yes, sir. And what's that, sir?"

Kenji stared at Mamoru hard for a long moment.

Then, without warning, his face broke into a grin.

"Call me Papa, okay?"

"Yes, s—"

Glare.

"Yes, Papa."


	77. Fantasy

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

77. _Fantasy_ (Word Count: 587)

* * *

It was every man's dream—soaring through the clear night sky with a beautiful girl in his arms…and not just any girl. _He _was carrying Sailor Moon.

Of course, as these things always do manage to happen, it was every man's dream…except Tuxedo Kamen's. He had to stifle a sigh as he looked down at the masked heroine nestled comfortably in his arms.

It wasn't that she was nothing to look at; on the contrary, she was gorgeous by all sane men's standards. Even he could not deny the uncommon smoothness of her skin, her flawless features effusing an almost ethereal glow under the full moon. But Tuxedo Kamen simply was not a san man. In fact, if he had to be completely honest with himself—and he couldn't help being just that, even in as perfectly romantic a moment as this—he did not know this girl any more than their infrequent encounters allowed. Even then, his heart already belonged to another.

"Usagi," he whispered as the image of the girl flitted across the speckled backdrop of the dark night sky.

"Did you say something?"

"What? I—" He looked down again, flustered, to see Sailor Moon staring right back at him. Her lips curved into a tiny smile. Had she heard him?

"Nothing, it's nothing," he muttered, glad that his mask kept his embarrassment hidden. He tightened his grip around her shoulder slightly as he leapt to the next rooftop.

Almost in spite of himself, however, another small sigh escaped him as he streaked almost effortlessly across the roofs of Tokyo. If it were her here with him, he would never have stopped flying. He would pull her close to him, his hands running through her hair, the wind caressing their faces as he gazed down into those eyes that mesmerized and enchanted and confused him all at once. She would laugh and run her fingers across the nape of his neck, and he would respond by squeezing her tightly and—

"Erm…Tuxedo Kamen?"

At the sound of the tentative voice that issued from his arms, he blinked. He was standing at the topmost spire of a church, and Sailor Moon was looking up at him with an expression he could not read. His face felt unusually flushed and sweaty.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Had she guessed? Could she possibly know…?

"I was wondering when you were going to put me down because, you know, we've kind of stopped."

Her suggestion nearly made him drop her—the only thing that prevented her from crashing straight to the pavement was sheer protective instinct.

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, setting her gently on the ground again with a feeling of such enormous relief that he nearly missed her parting words.

"Oh, and…Tuxedo Kamen?"

"Hm?" he said, lost deep in a faraway reverie.

"Next time you have a fantasy about, ah, _somebody_, make sure you watch what your hands are doing, hm? Especially if you're, you know, carrying somebody at the time."

She grinned and winked at him.

And then she was gone.

As for Tuxedo Kamen, he stood there for a moment, his mouth wide open and a feeling of complete mortification penetrating him like a thick slime. It was only half an hour later, after he was entirely sure that she was gone, that he even dared head in the same direction towards home, a silent and slightly desperate prayer on his lips that it would be at least a month before the next youma attack.


	78. Addiction

Hello hello!

The first thing I'm going to say here is a BIG thank you to everybody who has been dropping lines to say hello, say boo, say yay, or say anything at all! I know it was a long while between the last series of updates I did and now (i.e. these past few weeks), so I really have to appreciate the fact that a few of you still stick around and holler every now and then. Nothing like a virtual hello as balm for the part-time writer's soul!

Recently, wily Life has thrown me a few curveballs, so I've done what every sane, reasonable person would do in my situation: clobbered Life over the head with my baseball bat and hit the ground running. That being said, I received a very polite reminder via review last week (considering my extreme aptitude for always managing to go AWOL at the most inopportune moments) asking me about Notebooks, Not Love Notes…

Wait, did she just say the three forbidden words?

YES, SHE DID!

For anybody who isn't familiar with it, this is the story that has been rotting, decaying, and generally attracting chinchilla-sized dustballs on my shelf for over (has it really been?) two years now.

I'm scratching my head as I type this.

All I'm going to say for now is that I've pulled up the document on my computer. It has been such a long hiatus that I don't even remember most of what happened before (although I can assure you guys—I do remember what happens next! It…just hasn't evolved to that point of polish yet). I can't promise anything because the umpire has just called a foul (of epic proportions) and is now proceeding to overwhelm me in an absolute DELUGE of other responsibilities, but hey—

All I can say is, I'll give it a shot. Hopefully the shot isn't a fatal one, or one that issues from an automatic weapon.

(And with that rather grim note of determination…read on!)

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

78. _Addiction_ (Word Count: 707)

* * *

"Geez, Odango, what is that like, your twelfth bar?"

"Tenth." Usagi stuck out her tongue at him, revealing chocolate-stained teeth for a brief second before taking another generous chomp of her candy bar.

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Call the medics, I think we have a case of addiction in the house."

"Ellhafyoonoh…" Usagi choked down her last bite with difficulty, crumpled the now-empty wrapper up, and tossed it into the steadily-growing pile where its devoured brethren awaited. "I'll have you know that I _used _to have an addiction to chocolate, but it's all okay now."

"You don't say," Mamoru said, raising his eyebrow as he watched Usagi reach into her bag for yet another bar. "And what would you call this, then?"

"A healthy avoidance of withdrawal."

"Just because you're indulging the craving and not experiencing withdrawal symptoms, doesn't mean that you're not addicted!"

"No, I'm not. An addict couldn't do this." Usagi shoved the unwrapped bar under his nose. "Want some?"

"No, thanks." Mamoru grinned. "Wouldn't want to catch the disease."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. Anyway, I'm doing this because it's good for me." At Mamoru's incredulous look, she nodded seriously. "I'm not kidding. You know how some people can go hours—even days at a time without chocolate?"

"Imagine that," he drawled, not even bothering to try and keep a straight face.

"I tried that once. After half an hour, I started getting the shakes. Before lunchtime was over, I was sweating and nauseous. Thankfully, I figured out what was happening before the end of the school day and managed to pilfer Nami's chocolate wafers when she was busy talking to Umino, but goodness knows what would've happened if I hadn't. So now I don't take risks anymore, see?" And she opened her arms—with, Mamoru noticed in amusement, chocolate bars in both hands now, standing like some cuckoo cocoa Christ figure—and smiled at him.

Fortunately, he was saved the trouble of replying by the appearance of Motoki, who tossed his rag on the table and slid into the chair next to Mamoru's.

"Ten-minute break, thank God—those girls over there have been giving me no respite from their limitless refills." The blond caught sight of Usagi's chocolate-laden hands and grinned. "Chocolate cravings?"

"You might call it something of an _addiction_," Mamoru said with a smirk. For some reason, however, this remark seemed to rub Usagi the wrong way, and as all the sugar apparently did nothing to reconcile Usagi's mood to his witticisms, she threw him a dirty look before flouncing off without another word.

"You think…" Motoki began, but then shook his head. "Listen, Mamoru, I wanted to talk to you about something anyway. You know the other day when Reika was—Mamoru? Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah." Mamoru struggled to focus his eyes again. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was talking about that day when Reika came by and…are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"…What? Yeah! What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. It's just…" His friend cast a quick glance down at the table, and when Mamoru himself looked down to see what he was staring at, it made itself immediately clear. His hand was _trembling._

Damn it.

"You okay, man? Maybe I should call the doctor—"

"No! I mean, no." Mamoru ran the hand through his hair, trying to laugh it off. "It's okay. I'm—"

He froze. His fingers felt damp.

Oh god, he was actually _sweating_.

"…Mamoru?"

"It's—it's nothing," Mamoru said, pushing his chair away and standing up. His knees knocked together. He felt vaguely lightheaded as his eyes scanned the arcade in a bemused, desperate way. Finally, just when the room began to spin in a whirlwind of color, he found what he was looking for.

It was standing there halfway across the arcade, two bars of chocolate in its hands.

All of his symptoms disappeared. Mamoru instantly felt fine. The floor became solid under his feet again.

"What's the matter?" Motoki asked, frowning as he followed his friend's gaze across the room. "Guilty conscience?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Mamoru muttered as he hurried away, making a beeline for the chocolate-chomping monster in the corner.

She was, after all, the only thing worth being addicted to.


	79. Naughty

Just one word of good news from this end of the writing board—I'm almost done rereading "Notebooks!"

Okay, don't give your computer screen that look. It just turns out that I've let more of the story slip out of my mind than I, er, originally anticipated. I mean, it has been two years…

I finished a long essay and am plowing through two more books (to be finished before Wednesday) in the hopes of finding time to write sometime this week. I'm giving myself a liberal 50-50 chance of getting some of that writing done, so in the meantime, why not forget my little oversights and forgive them with the incredibly tangible, finished drabble below?

(Goodness, I hope I find better ways of excusing myself than this soon. That was pathetic.)

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

79. _Naughty_ (Word Count: 435)

* * *

"_Naughty_? How could I be _naughty?_"

"Hm, I _wonder_," Luna drawled from the top of the dresser where she had recently taken up residence. "Now how on Earth could he have come to that conclusion?"

"Luna, this is no laughing matter!" Usagi said as her cat chuckled. "I'm serious! I've been nice all year. There's no _way_—" She jabbed the letter in front of her for emphasis, "there's no _way_ I could've been put on the naughty list!"

Luna yawned and rested her chin on her forepaws, peeking up at Usagi through one lazily opened eye. "Well, I suppose anybody who has to write to the North Pole and _ask_ Santa whether they've been naughty or nice this year is assumed to have ulterior motives and is automatically put onto the naughty list."

This remark was met with a renewed wailing noise from Usagi, who slid down the side of the dresser and flopped to the floor. "That's not fair! I was just asking!"

"And anyway," Luna said, peering over the edge of the wooden paneling, "what makes you think that this year was any better than any of the other years?"

"I haven't done _anything_ naughty!" Usagi said, her voice muffled—she had buried her face between her knees. "I stay out of the kitchen whenever my mom is cooking, I don't eat or sleep in class, I've stopped putting frogs in Shingo's closet, I've even done all of my homework!"

Luna gave a tiny mew of surprise.

"In fact," Usagi went on, completely beside herself now, "the only time I've ever heard my name and the word 'naughty' in the same sentence together this year was when…when Mamo-chan…"

"When Mamoru what?" Luna asked vaguely, still trying to recollect whether or not Usagi had actually been good this year, or if it had all just been a flitting fancy of whim on her own part.

There was silence. In fact, nearly a minute passed before a tinny, high-pitched "Nothing, nothing!" snapped Luna from her musings.

She knew that tone.

Luna's eyes narrowed.

"Nothing!" Usagi jumped so suddenly to her feet that she nearly upset the dresser, and with it, her cat. Her face appeared, Luna noticed, strangely flushed.

"Usagi…" Luna growled, getting to her own feet.

But Usagi was already hightailing it out of the room.

"Damn that Mamoru…" Usagi growled as she hurtled down the stairs, stalking into the streets and making a beeline for Mamoru's house with a scowl. "Next time he opens his big fat mouth in bed, I'm going to show him what it _really _means to be naughty!"


	80. Pandora's Box

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

80. _Pandora's Box_ (Word Count: 651)

"Move over."

"Long day?" Motoki asked, scooting over to make room for his best friend, who immediately flopped into the seat next to him.

"You bet." Mamoru closed his eyes and leaned back, groaning. "I just had the biggest argument ever with Usagi."

"You mean she bit your head off and fed it to her cat when she was done?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Ahh. What was it about this time?"

Mamoru sighed, gratefully accepting the soda Motoki pushed his way. "We were talking about the good old times when we used to hang out here and bicker, and my old nickname for her just sort of…slipped."

"Ahh."

They stared at each other for a full second before saying at the same time:

"_Usagi's Box._"

Motoki nodded wisely as his friend took a large swig of soda. "I should have known it was something from there."

"Yup. Mention anything in that imaginary box of hers and all hell will break loose."

"Like that time you fell under Queen Whats-Her-Face's spell and kissed the witch, right?

"…yeah, like that. Please don't—"

"Or when you told her about how you and Rei went on a super romantic date back in high school?"

"Yes, thanks for the remind—"

"Ooh, or what about that time Usagi wore her shirt backwards for the entire day and you didn't tell her until you got home?"

"Exactly like that, Motoki, now would you please shut u—"

"Or…ooh, ooh! What about—" Motoki sniggered so hard that he snorted and had to grab a napkin before he continued. "What about that time she spilled coffee all over your brand new shirt when you guys first met and to get back at her, you told everyone that she was a natural hermaphrodite?"

"You told everyone _what_?" a cold voice hissed suddenly in Mamoru's ear.

Mamoru felt the blood chill to his very core.

Motoki, meanwhile, was still yammering away, oblivious to the danger looming right over his shoulder. Mamoru made a violent slicing gesture across his throat, but to no avail.

"Yeah, yeah, and can you believe it, he told everyone that would listen that you actually had both—_Usagi_?"

And so it was. The two men turned, one with feelings of shock, the other in a combination of dread and utter mortification, to see a livid Usagi standing behind them, the heat exuding so furiously from her body that it most definitely exceeded the arcade's fire code regulations.

Mamoru swallowed and said in a very weak voice, "Hi, Usako…dear."

"Don't you _dare_ 'Usako dear' me after you…_you_…"

There was only one good thing to be said for her anger—it rendered her completely inarticulate. However, after a series of less-than-gentle smacks on the arm had been duly delivered, with Motoki as their wincing witness, Usagi dropped a rather unpleasant hint that "there would be plenty more where that came from" and stalked out of the arcade.

It was several moments before a considerably abashed Motoki dared to clear his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but his friend held up a hand to stop him. When Mamoru spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"Motoki."

"Um…yes?"

"Do you know what the difference between Pandora's Box and Usagi's Box is?"

His tone was so calm that Motoki silently thanked whatever Greek gods had decided to grant him temporary reprieve from his friend's retribution. Even so, he knew Mamoru's temper must be on a short fuse right now; and it was only after a long moment of careful consideration that Motoki said, rather uncertainly, "No, what?"

"There was hope left after Pandora opened her box, you idiot."

Motoki recovered from the blow he received upside the head just in time to see Mamoru hurrying away after Usagi, leaving the blond to reflect rather painfully that, all things considered, Pandora's Box really had nothing on the wrath of Tsukino Usagi.


	81. Nature

Dear Readers,

Guess who is—not bragging or getting anyone's hopes up or anything, but…—guess who is about 1/3 of the way through finishing the FINAL CHAPTER OF THE LONG (UN)DEAD "NOTEBOOKS"?

Yeah, I was pretty stoked to hear that, too. So sue me, I'm a little bit masochistic.

Slowly but surely! Hang in there, all of you!

Ala

100 Themed Drabbles

* * *

Ala Verity

81. _Nature_ (Word Count: 438)

"Usako?" The sound of crunching twigs behind him made Mamoru jump. The jerky movement made him wince—if she did not come back soon, he would have to pick a spot and hope she didn't accidentally stumble on whatever hapless brush he happened to choose. With a slight hint of panic now, he called out in a more urgent voice, "Usako, are you there?"

"Over here!" a voice answered from the opposite end of the trail. Usagi appeared in the clearing moments later, clutching two handfuls of something and grinning. "Wild blueberries!" she said, holding out a handful of berries to him as she munched out of the other hand. "Want some?"

"Er, no thanks. Listen, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to step aside for a moment, okay? Just over behind that brush over there. Nature calls."

For some reason, Mamoru's remark caused Usagi to giggle.

"What?"

Usagi hid her mouth behind a blue-stained hand. "Nothing."

"You were laughing."

"Nothing! It's just—" At a pointed look from her boyfriend, Usagi fought to keep her face straight. "It's just that nature's been calling you an awful lot since we got out to these woods."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Mamoru said, feeling irritated on more than one account now.

"It means your bladder is the size of a pea?"

Mamoru was not in the mood to be tested. "Try again," he growled.

"Or it means you're doing a lot of thinking about Niagara Falls, the Atlantic Ocean, and other large bodies of rushing, churning water."

"Not…it…" Mamoru said through gritted teeth.

"Or—oh, ho ho, I got it! It _means_ that Mother Nature obviously has a favorite because she's 'called' you five times already in the last two hours—" Usagi giggled. "—and she hasn't called me even once!"

"You bought me _five_ cups of coffee on the way up here!"

Usagi giggled. "Doesn't help the fact that you have a teeny-weenie bladder!"

"I hope a black bear eats you while I'm gone," Mamoru growled as he stormed off in the direction of a particularly gnarly thicket of branches a hundred yards off.

"Yes, you—wait, _black bear?_" Usagi's voice rose shrilly behind him. "There are _bears_ here? H-hey, hang on! I was kidding! Mamo-chan, you can't leave me alone here, they'll eat me alive! _Where are you going?_"

"Off to find Mother Nature," Mamoru tramped through the bushes, his temper—and bladder—fit to burst. "If you see her, tell her that I'm answering her call and that she's about to become the victim of an extremely offended man's matricide."


	82. The Small Things

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

82. _The Small Things_ (Word Count: 645)

* * *

"Aw, come on—there's no use crying about it, you know."

Usagi glared fiercely up at him through bleary eyes. "Says _you_. You're an introverted, antisocial bum with no taste for anything outside of your personal bubble of perfection."

"Gee, and here I thought you were genuinely upset."

"I _am!_"

"Then why are you getting all hissy with me? I have nothing to do with your prom date bailing on you." He leaned back in his seat again and folded his arms, observing Usagi's reaction with satisfaction, although the gesture seemed to be missing its usual smugness.

"I—Well, you're not _helping_," Usagi huffed at last, sounding slightly mollified nonetheless.

"Okay, fine. I wasn't helping. Now do you want me to help you or not?"

"Wh-what?"

"You know, advice. That's why you came to me, right?" Mamoru raised his eyebrows, and the fact that Usagi was suddenly blushing not having escaped his noticed, added, "Why, what did you think I was going to say?"

"Nothing!" she exclaimed hastily, staring out the window with admirable resolve.

"…Right then. Did you want to hear what I have to say or not, then?"

"No. Maybe. Fine."

Mamoru took a deep breath. "I know high school prom seems like the biggest deal in the world to you right now."

Usagi turned back towards him with a look that clearly said, _If I'd wanted a life lecture I would have asked my mother_. However, Mamoru held up a hand for silence before continuing.

"It's only natural that it feels that way. But the thing you've got to keep in mind is that it's not the big things—like prom, graduation, college—that count. Those are important, too. But what really counts are the small things."

"Like what?"

"Like—well, it depends, I guess. Like for me it's being able to come here and know that—" He glanced at her, caught sight of her curious eyes on him, and quickly cleared his throat before looking down at the table again. "—know that I'm going to get a free cup of coffee."

"Really? Something that small?"

"Sure. I mean, think about it. What do you look forward to after a rough day?"

"Ice cream sundaes," Usagi said at once, taking an appreciative spoonful of the hot fudge sundae that happened to be sitting in front of her at that very moment. "And my mom's cooking. And Luna being there to say—I mean, mew hello when I get home."

"Exactly. See?"

"Small things, huh?" Usagi sat in pensive silence for a long time before she finally spoke again. "Actually, that was…sort of surprisingly helpful."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just—" Usagi smiled. "Just one of those small things, I guess." Then she did something that took him completely by surprised—she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks," she said, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink as she stood up and hastily swung her backpack over one shoulder. She had just turned to leave when Mamoru's voice stopped her.

"Hey."

She turned again to find him standing nearly right in front of her. She took a hasty step backwards, but he caught her hand before she could escape.

Usagi felt her cheeks burning as she avoided his eyes. "About that—I wasn't—thinking—I'm sorry—"

"Sorry? Is that all I get after nearly suffocating myself by spewing out the most clichéd nonsense that ever existed in all of history?"

"…W-what?"

"All that nonsense aside," Mamoru said, his grip tightening slightly on her wrist as he spoke, "when I said that you needed to appreciate the _small_ things in life, I definitely wasn't talking about kissing you."

Usagi did not even get a chance to respond. Mamoru simply smiled at her wide eyes, leaned in, kissed her full on the lips.


	83. Mail

Still working hard against that holiday deadline! Good cheer to all, and have a fantastic holiday season!

-Ala

* * *

100 Themed Drabbles

Ala Verity

83. _Mail _(Word Count: 473)

* * *

"And your reason for complaint is…?" the squat, middle-aged lady at the back office asked, peering over her pair outdated red-rim spectacles at him.

"It's just—it's, well, it's _complicated_."

"Well, unfortunately, 'it's complicated' isn't one of the options on this form," the lady said with a rather bored glance look down at the paperwork in front of her.

"Look—" Mamoru began—then, holding up a hand in a conciliatory manner, casting a quick glance at the receptionist's nametag, and giving her the most charming smile he could muster, "Look, _Heidi_, all I'm doing is asking a favor. I know that you can help me, isn't that right? All it'll take is a little click."

Heidi stared at him.

"Come on, a young, able lady like yourself? It won't cost you anything, just a bit of your time. What do you say?"

"We-ell…"

"I'll tell you the truth." Mamoru looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers, leaned in, and whispered, "The mailman who works on our block is a little too, er, _cute_ for my taste, if you know what I mean. I don't want to take any chances while temptation is so close by. My wife—"

"Ah." Heidi held up a pudgy hand to stop him. "Say no more. I know exactly what you mean."

Mamoru straightened up at once. "You do?"

"Of course."

Relief spread across his face as he sighed and smiled at her. "Thank you."

"I'll have the change made within the month."

"I can't tell you how grateful I am. If there's anything I can do—you know, for a beautiful woman such as yourself—"

Heidi smiled as she stamped the form. "That's all right, honey. You don't have to act with me."

"Act? I'm not sure what you mean—"

"There is, however," she went on, her eyes widening with sudden suggestiveness, "one little thing you can do for me."

"Name it."

"If you have any male friends—"

"No problem," Mamoru said at once.

"—who are straighter than you, that would be great," she finished, folding her hands on the desk and beaming up at him in anticipation.

There was a moment where nothing could be heard but the sound of utter horror clanging as the receptionist's meaning sank in.

"Hang on, I—I'm not—" Mamoru stammered, mortified.

"That's all right, dearie." She gave him what was clearly meant to be a reassuring squeeze on the hand. "You don't have to worry about me telling your wife. Just make sure you tell your friend, okay?"

Mamoru bolted as fast as he could for the doorway, but it was not enough to shut out the low voice of the receptionist to the worker next to her as the doors slid open, "The good ones always are, honey. The good ones always are."


End file.
